A Kiss Goodnight
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: Draco wasn't looking forward to seeing her again. She must hate him,for the way he treated her in school. But after their meeting she smiled at him & even waved.What did that mean? Help him,for he was smitten with Granger! A little mystery and a love stor
1. A Cup of Coffee, and a Wave

All Characters belong to JKR

* * *

**A Kiss Goodnight**

by  
Anne M.

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**Chapter 1 - A Cup of Coffee, and A Wave:****  
**  
Sitting in the corner of a bright little café, reading 'The Daily Prophet' and drinking a cup of hot black coffee, Draco Malfoy was unhappy. Normally, reading his paper and drinking his coffee made him very happy indeed. Not today, for it was only 10:10 am, and Draco was already having a seriously bad day. His mother had called him just that morning to remind him of the 'blind date' she set up for him, with the niece of a very good friend of her hairdresser, who apparently was some type of pureblood heiress from France. Lucky him.

Also, adding to his bleak day, was the fact that his father owled him to remind him that he expected him to come to the yearly board meeting that afternoon, and a 'no show' would certainly lead to Draco being disinherited.

Nevertheless, the main reason Draco was having a rotten day was because Marcus Flint, his business partner, had arranged to meet with a curse breaker from the firm of Weasley and Weasley, to discuss the appraisal of an old artifact that they had recently acquired. The person he was waiting for was the last person in the world he wanted to meet. Damn, Flint! He made the damn appointment he should keep it. Who cares if he had appendicitis? They removed the stupid thing yesterday. Surely, he was well enough to meet her today.

Yes…her. The person Draco was dreading meeting today was a 'her', and not just any her, but a certain her. A 'her' he had not seen for six years. Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's best friend. The last time he saw her was during the battle of Hogwarts. He never thought he would have to see her again. Now because of Flint and his stupid burst appendix, Draco had to meet her, and he was not pleased.

He was not even sure why he was not happy about it. She was just someone from his past. No, that was a lie. She was someone from his past with whom he had never gotten along, whom he bullied and terrorized, and all of sorts of 'bad blood' had passed between them. Why did the meeting have to be with her? Why couldn't it be with one of the Weasleys? After all, wasn't the damn company called Weasley and Weasley?

The thing was that Hermione Granger did not even know she was meeting with Malfoy. He told his assistant not to inform her. He merely had his assistant tell her that the meeting had been changed from their office to the café. Draco did not want to meet her in his office as it was too confined. Here in the café, there would be many people around. He did not know why, but he thought that would be prudent, just on the off chance that she hexed him or something. She might arrive, see Draco instead of Marcus, decide to leave, and before leaving, choose to hex him. There was the off chance that she may decide to be the bigger person, give them her appraisal, tell them if there were any dark curses on the item, and then say thank you and leave. Well, Draco could always dream.

Draco rubbed his forehead with his long slender fingers. Yes, he was having a bad day indeed, and as soon as Miss Hermione Granger walked in, it would become one thousand times worse. As Draco sat there, his paper no longer open, his coffee neglected, and his fingertips still massaging his head to waylay the headache that was forming, he recalled that it hadn't actually been six years since he had seen her. No, he saw her two years ago at some big celebration commemorating the end of the war. Every year there were celebrations on the anniversary of the defeat of Voldemort. Everyone celebrated, partied, and the Ministry even declared it a National holiday. Two years ago, there was a big party at a nightclub, and Draco happened to be there just as Harry "The Saviour" Potter, Ron "The Weasel" Weasley, and Hermione "Mudblood" Granger, came walking in the place, like the conquering heroes that they were. The truth was all three seemed embarrassed at the displays of praise and adulation. Draco tried to make a hasty retreat, not having any desire to see or talk to the golden trio, when who would have thought, she walked over to him.

That was a lie.

She did not walk over to him, but she did walk in his direction. He ducked his head, but when he looked back up, she was even closer, she caught his eye, and she actually smiled and even more shocking, she waved her hand in acknowledgment. What game was she playing? He did the only thing he could think of doing that night. He frowned at her, stood up from his table, and left.

And now, here it was, two years later, and he was going to have to sit across from her, be civil and kind, all the while knowing how much she must hate him. He looked down at his watch. She was exactly two minutes late, for they were to meet at 10:15. Not very professional of her. Of course, since Marcus Flint could not be profession enough to keep his obligations, why should he expect anything more from a Muggle-born like Hermione Granger?

He was about to fold his paper and walk out, when he saw her enter. For some reason, he opened his paper back up and ducked behind it. He wasn't hiding from her so much, as he just really wanted to finish his paper.

He should let her know he was there. He really did need to find out what she found out about their artifact. Marcus and Draco were in the acquisition business. They would acquire old estates from Wizards who had no family or had families that needed quick money. They would then re-sale the items, at an incredibly inflated price. The item she was hired to examine was an 18th century tapestry, denoting all the pureblood families of all of Europe. Not only was it several centuries old, but it undoubtedly had black magic associated with it, as it came from a family that was know for their love of the dark arts. Hence, the reason for Hermione Granger's assistance. They needed to clear the item from all the dark magic before they could even consider selling it.

He peered around his paper. She was frowning, looking all around for Flint. She ordered a coffee, and sat down at a table near the front of the café. She looked around the room once more and saw him. He hurried and raised his paper again.

"Draco Malfoy?" she said. She was standing beside his table.

He winced. He lowered his paper. "Yes, do I know you?" he asked. He felt stupid the moment it left his mouth, so he decided to cover for his faux pas. "Just, joking. Hello, Hermione Granger." He stood up and offered his hand to her. It surprised him when she took it. His hand was suddenly clammy. He hoped she didn't notice. Her hand was surprisingly warm.

"Have you seen Marcus Flint?" she asked.

"Who?" he asked. Another stupid thing to do, he knew, but it was too late. He already said it. Perhaps he should sew his mouth shut, that way he would not keep saying stupid things.

"Your business partner, Marcus Flint, have you seen him?" she asked, smiling.

When she smiled at him, it was as if he was transported back to that nightclub two years ago, and she was smiling at him, and waving, and he was rude, and frowned at her and left. He was reliving the embarrassment of that day all over again in a flash of a moment. Perhaps she did not even remember that day. He was surprised he remembered it.

She made her way around to the side of his table and sat down. He sat back down as well. "Yes, well, Marcus had some minor surgery yesterday, so I'm taking his place today."

"Oh, no, is he going to be okay?" she asked. She really seemed concerned. It was not fake or apathetic, or dripping with disdain. It was a genuine, concerned question. He did not know if he liked that. Who was she to be concerned for Marcus 'the wanker' Flint?

"He's fine. Appendicitis. They removed the little offensive organ yesterday," Draco explained. "So, Granger, tell me, did you have time to examine our item?"

"Yes, I did. I had Bill Weasley look at it as well. I'll tell you something, Mr. Malfoy, that item is full of charms, dark magic, the works," she stated.

"Mr. Malfoy?" he asked. That seemed to be the only thing he heard.

She laughed and said, "I'm in business mode now. Sorry, I could call you Draco, if you would rather."

"I would rather you call me Malfoy," he grimaced.

"Really? I don't usually call people by their last names. It seems curt and disrespectful. If you don't want me to call you Draco, I can stick with Mr. Malfoy." She smiled.

Why was she being so nice? Charming even. It shocked him. Didn't she remember who he was? What he used to stand for? How he used to treat her?

After his extended silence, she said, "I could call you some foul name, like I did in school, but I would be afraid of what you might call me in return."

"Draco. Call me Draco. We'll just use our proper names. So, about our item?" he prodded.

"Yes, well, it's going to be a while. Charlie and Bill are still examining it. It may cost you more money to remove the dark magic from it than you'll recoup by selling it. I just wanted to give you the option, in case you want us to stop our work on it," she said. She took a drink of her coffee.

"I can assure you, I already have some very large offers for the blasted thing, so go ahead and do what you must," he said. He leaned back in his seat. She smiled again. Why did she keep smiling? Why was she so happy? Why did she look so pretty when she smiled?

She stood up, this time offering her hand to him, which he took. "Well, we'll carry on then. Tell Marcus I'm dreadfully sorry about his illness. Perhaps I'll go see him in Hospital."

"Oh, no, he doesn't want any visitors, he told me that," Draco said, letting go of her hand, and standing up as well. Why did he just lie?

"Well, goodbye, Draco. By the way, should I just report back to you, or to your assistant?" she asked.

"Me, report back to me," he said quickly.

"Very well, it was nice to see you again. I'll have more to report the next time I see you. Goodbye." She waved, just as she waved at him two years ago. This time, he waved back. She was almost to the door of the café when he jumped out of his seat, and ran up to catch her.

"Hey, Granger?" he called. She turned around.

"Hermione," she reminded.

"Hermione," he corrected, "I have a few other items from the same estate. Do you think you would be able to examine these as well?" He wanted her to say yes.

"Of course, where are they?" she asked.

"They're still at the estate. We acquire the whole bloody house. There's a lot of junk to go through. Some of our employees are sorting through the mess as we speak. Perhaps you could arrange to come see some of the items in a couple of days?"

"Sure, have your assistant owl me with the time and place. Bye, Malfoy." She said his last name exaggerated, because he had called her Granger. She smiled, for the hundredth time that morning and left.

Heaven help him, but Draco Malfoy thought he might be smitten with…it cannot be true…Hermione Granger. Yes, he was having the day from hell.


	2. Going Through Boxes

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 2 - Going Through Boxes:****  
**  
Several days had passed since their meeting at the café. Draco arrived at the large decrepit house to find Hermione Granger already there. She was in the middle of the large front room, sitting on the dirty floor, buried among boxes, her nose already deep inside one. He knocked on the door jam.

She looked up.

"Oh, hello, Draco," she said. She pushed the box away, attempting to stand. He put his hand up.

"Stay where you are," he motioned. "Find anything interesting so far?"

"Oh, these are the boxes that your staff was going to throw out," she said, adding to clarify, "I just wanted to make sure they didn't accidentally throw out something important."

He kneeled down beside her; pulled the box she was currently looking in to him, and frowned. "Looks like junk to me," he said.

"One man's junk is another man's treasure," she herald. She pushed the box aside and said, "However, this box does indeed only contain junk."

She had on Muggle jeans, a dark t-shirt, a sweater and trainers. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She appeared to be dressed for a day of looking through boxes. He stood back up and said, "Well, if you're finished with the trash, could I show you what I wanted you to examine?"

"Fine, Draco," she said with fake disdain, "stop me from finding some ancient artifact worth millions of galleons." She rolled over to her knees, and put a hand on a box to help her stand. He offered his hand. She looked at his face first, and then took his hand. After standing, he let go. She brushed off her jeans.

He began walking, assuming she would know to follow. He walked up the stairs. He turned to tell her to be careful of the second stair, for it had a loose board, but her foot was already stuck. "You do have a way of finding trouble, don't you, Granger?" He walked down to pull on her calf, removing her foot from the broken step.

"I thought we were going to call each other by our proper names?" she asked, as they continued up the stairs.

"It's easier to call you Granger," he admitted. It was, and he was not sure why. It made her seem more like 'one of the guys', or 'unattainable'.

From behind him on the stairs she said, "It seems disrespectful." She said it quietly. Didn't she want him to hear?

When they reached the first landing, he said, "Whoever said I respected you?" Wow, that was mean. Where did that come from he wondered? She actually looked hurt. No smiling at Draco today.

She said, "Call me whatever you want. Where are you taking me, to your lair?" She snorted and laughed.

He whipped back around and said, "Pardon?"

"Nothing, MALFOY," she said. He shook his head and took her to one of the front bedrooms. She entered after him and he opened a large trunk. He merely pointed in the trunk.

She leaned over and peered in the trunk. "Books?" she asked, confused.

"Yes, I thought you of all people would recognize books, Granger," he mused. "However, these are no ordinary books. They are original first edition manuscripts written by the man who owned this house, and so far, no one can even pick one up to open, let alone examine them. It took us a week to figure out how to open up the damn trunk."

"Might we bring the trunk back to our office?" Hermione asked, bending over to look in the trunk.

"Sure, try that," he said, smirking. He motioned toward the trunk. She looked at him. She took her wand and tried to levitate the trunk. She was knocked over on her backside. He laughed at her.

She stood up and said, "You could have warned me, Draco."

"It was more fun to watch you get knocked on your bum," he admitted. He closed the lid. "No, you'll have to work on these here, if you take this on, that is."

"Sure, no problem." She started looking around the room. She fingered some of the dusty bric-a-brac on the shelves.

"Perhaps you could stay here for a few days," he suggested.

"Is this house even safe enough to inhabit?" she asked, turning around.

"No, it's not, but we have some other accommodations. There are two little cottages in the back garden, and we've equipped one as the office, and the other we've set up as sleeping accommodations," he explained.

"I would have to check with Charlie first," she said, continuing her trek around the room.

"Your boyfriend?" he inquired.

"Charlie Weasley, one of my bosses. Bill's out of town." She turned to face him, as she continued, "But, I'm sure that will be no problem. This might turn out to be interesting." She raised her eyebrows and smiled brightly.

He said, "Whatever." He started down the stairs. She trotted right after him.

"So, Draco, will you be staying here as well?" she asked.

Why would she assume that? He turned to face her, as his foot became stuck in the second step, just as hers did moments before. She laughed and walked down toward him. He struggled to remove his foot. She reached down, just as he did before with her, to help him pull his foot out of the hole. "Don't touch me," he said hastily. Why did he say that?

She looked up and said, "It's like Hogwarts all over again, isn't it, Draco? No matter how many years pass, you can't get over your hatred of me. I'm still nothing but a lowly Mudblood to you. I'm sorry, but I can't work with a hostile person. I'll see if Charlie can send someone else out to help you." She started out the front door.

He released his foot from the bloody step and ran to catch up with her. "Wait," he said. He did not know what he was going to say if she waited. She did. She turned around, waiting.

"I just meant that I could remove my own foot. I wasn't thinking along the lines that you were beneath me. If I was afraid to touch you, I wouldn't have removed your foot from the step," he pointed out.

"Oh," she said, looking at the ground. "It's just that I was recalling the last time I saw you. You probably don't even remember."

He walked up directly in front of her and said, "To what are you referring?"

"Two years ago, during the celebration of freedom, Harry, Ron and I had just entered a nightclub, and I saw you there. You probably don't even recall, but I was walking up to say hello, and when I got close enough, I smiled and waved, and you frowned at me and ran out of the place," she regaled. "I have to admit, it hurt my feelings, because I assumed you still hated me. We aren't children anymore, Draco. We don't have to like each other, but we can be civil to each other."

He was shocked beyond words. She remembered that night as well as he did. She was coming toward him that night to say hello. The thing was, she hit the nail on the head. Her memory was more accurate than his was, and he hated to admit as much. He did run away from her because of his old beliefs.

"I don't recall that," he lied. "Still, even if that did happen, it means nothing in the scheme of things. I seriously no longer think along those lines."

"I'll believe you, if you say so. I'll still have to check with Charlie about staying here. I'll let you know." She turned to walk away.

"Hermione!" he yelled at her. She turned back around once again. "Yes, I will be staying here as well," he said. He was not planning on it, but it would not be a bad idea. Protect his investment, and all.

"Fine, I'll owl you later." She disapparated away.

He walked back in the old house, and went to the large front room. He looked in the box she was examining when he first walked in the house. He stood back up, kicked the box, and said aloud, "What a strange girl." He walked outside and disapparated as well.

Later that night, as Draco was on his 'blind date' with the countess of 'who gives a crap' a waiter brought him a sealed envelope. It was from Granger. She said she would meet him at the house that very night. How presumptuous of her. Didn't she realize he was on a date, and couldn't just leave because she said she would meet him? Draco looked up at the stupid airhead in front of him and said, "Urgent business, sorry, we must cut this date short." Without another word to the witch, he threw a pocket full of money on the table and apparated to the old house.

It was dark outside. He didn't even know if she was there yet. He started walking around to the side of the house, when someone jumped down off a side porch and yelled, "BOO!"

He jumped high off the ground, frightened. "Did you think I was the ghost of the old professor here, about to come back and give you a good scare?" she asked with a laugh.

"You did scare me!" he chastised. "How old are you?"

She decided to ignore him, as she picked up her suitcase and said, "That was quick. You must have just gotten my note. I didn't know what I was thinking. As soon as I sent it, I thought, he probably has plans or something. It is a Friday night after all."

"No, I was just spending a quiet night at home," he lied.

"No date for Draco?" she asked, turning to look at him. He came up beside her and took her suitcase from her. His hand lightly brushed hers. He felt suddenly warm. The back of his neck felt prickly and hot. He walked ahead of her, not answering her question.

"Here's the cottage," he said, opening the door, turning on the lights, and depositing her bag on the floor. "There are two bedrooms. You take your pick. I need to go back to my flat and collect some things. I'll return later." He started out the door.

"I'll be in the house, looking at some things," she stated, coming out of one of the bedrooms, after placing her suitcase on the floor.

"I would prefer you wait for me," he stated.

"I promise not to steal anything," she joked.

"I meant that they house isn't a terribly safe place," he confirmed, rolling his eyes.

"I'll go to your flat with you," she said.

He turned and frowned. "Why? I know the way without you. I can pack without you. There's no reason for you to come. Listen, Granger, this is a business relationship. We aren't friends, okay?" Why was he being mean? He wouldn't mind being her friend.

She took a deep breathing, almost as if willing herself not to yell at him. She even clenched her fists to her sides. He couldn't help but smile. "Are you going to hit me?" he teased.

"Not at the moment, although I wouldn't take bets that it won't happen before this all ends," she snapped. She turned back around and went back to the cottage, slamming the door behind her.

'That's right,' Granger, he thought. 'Show me that hate and disdain. I know that's how you feel. You could never really like me.'

A few moments later, he found himself actually knocking on the door of the cottage. She opened the door, to find him on the steps with a suitcase in hand. "Why did you knock?" she asked.

"I was afraid if I tried to enter, you might yell something sophomoric like 'boo' again, and give me a heart attack," he snapped.

"No more games. Business relationship only. I'll not try to be friendly, warm or charming. I know you'll do the same," she said sarcastically. "Well, it's late, so I'll see you in the morning, Malfoy." She went in the second bedroom and shut the door.

He stood out in the main room, and threw his body on the couch. Why was he pushing her away, when she was being so nice and friendly? Then again, why was she being so nice and friendly? What was her motive?

He found himself drifting off to sleep on the couch. Sometime during the night, she padded out of the bedroom to go to the bathroom. He lifted his head to watch. She shut the bathroom door. She was in there for a long time. When she finally came back out, he was sitting up on the couch. She looked over at him, but didn't smile, wave, or anything. She started back to her room. He jumped off the couch, scaring her this time.

"What do you want?" she asked, quietly, her hand over her heart.

"A kiss goodnight," he said. Why the hell did he say something like that? He smiled a crooked smile and said, "Now I scared you as much as you scared me earlier." She laughed. She was pretty when she laughed. He closed the gap between them and said softly, "I apologize for my rude behaviour earlier. I'm not used to a nice, charming, smiling Hermione Granger."

"Is that so?" she said, "Well, that's because you never really took the time, or a chance, to get to know me in school. You preferred to hate me because of my blood status. I was always nice and charming, and I smiled quite a bit."

"Noted," he said quickly. "Goodnight, Hermione." He stood there, not knowing what else to do.

"Until the morning, Draco," she said. She stepped over the threshold and closed her door. He stood there for a while, and then went back over to the couch, and went back to sleep.


	3. Who Invited You?

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 3 – Who invited you?****  
**  
Draco woke up on the couch of the cottage and he was immediately confused. He forgot where he was. He sat up and saw Hermione Granger sitting on one chair, and Marcus Flint on the other, both with coffee mugs in their hands, talking, and now, both smiling at him. Damn. He rubbed his hands through his hair and said one word, "Coffee." Marcus stood up and went to the corner of the room, and grabbed a mug of coffee for him. He handed it to Malfoy and Malfoy grunted.

Marcus said, "You're welcome. Well, I'll see you out there, Hermione." He put his mug down and walked out the door.

"What's Marcus doing here?" Draco asked.

"You'll have to ask him. I think he's here for the same reason you are," Hermione answered.

Draco wanted to say, "I doubt it," but he didn't. He took another swig of coffee and then said, "That damn Flint makes terrible coffee."

"I made the coffee, but you're right, everyone tells me that," Hermione said. She asked, "Would you like me to make you some tea?"

"No," Draco said. He stood up and went to the bathroom. He heard Hermione say something about 'must not be a morning person.' He turned on the shower, letting the hot water cascade down his tired muscles.

Hermione and Marcus looked very cozy this morning. He wondered how long they had been talking. Actually, he wondered if they 'knew' each other. After all, Marcus recommended the services of 'Weasley and Weasley'. He would not dwell on it at this moment in time.

When he walked in the house, he found Hermione already in the large dining room, with parchment all around. "What are you up to already this morning?" he asked, leaning over her, one arm on the table, to look down at the parchment. She felt his breath on her hair, and his arm was up against her arm, as he leaned against the table. She liked him this close, and she was not sure why.

She looked up at him and said, "I'm looking over everything your staff has categorized, to make sure they haven't forgotten anything."

He pulled out the chair beside her and picked up one of the pieces of paper. He said, "Wow, I didn't know this house had so much junk. We usually only acquire pieces of estates, not the whole bloody thing." He pushed the parchment away from him, and sat back in the chair, with his legs crossed.

"Yes, there's a lot here," she mused. She brushed her hair out of her face. He thought it was the single sexiest act any woman had ever done. Lord, what was wrong with him? He cleared his throat, which caused her to look up at him. He pushed away from the table and said, "Shall we go upstairs?"

"Sure, let me tell Marcus," Hermione said. She walked through the butler's pantry, toward a smaller dining room, where she found Marcus, on the floor, looking at pieces of silver and china. Draco was right behind her. "Draco and I are heading upstairs."

"Fine, I'll stay down here. This is probably all trash, but I want to make sure," he said. He smiled at Hermione, and she smiled back. She turned, and was startled to see Draco right behind her.

"Excuse me, Draco, I didn't mean to run into you." She put her hand on his forearm, and brushed past him. He caught a whiff of her perfume. Lovely. He stayed in the doorway for a moment.

"Did you want something, Malfoy?" Marcus laughed.

"How well do you know Granger?" Draco asked, after she had gone.

"About as well as you, I suppose." He went back to his work. Draco looked behind him, to make sure she was out of earshot.

"No," Draco said, "I mean is there something going on between you two?"

"What?" Marcus looked up at that question. "You're barking mad, Malfoy. I know her slightly from school, but she was so much younger than I was, and then I met her two weeks ago when I went to see the curse breakers about working on our project. That's all." Marcus went back to his work, and Draco sighed in relief and started to walk out, when he heard Marcus add, "Oh, and she visited me in the hospital the other day."

Draco whipped back around and said, "Why would she go visit you in Hospital if you don't even know each other?"

"Why didn't you visit me in Hospital, when we DO know each other?" Marcus asked back. "Get a grip, Malfoy. Go up and get some work done."

"So, you don't like her or something, do you?" Draco asked.

"Like her? Are we schoolchildren, Malfoy? And what if I do like her, do you have a problem with that?" Marcus asked.

"Maybe," Draco admitted.

"Oh Draco, when will you ever get over your pureblood prejudices?" Marcus asked. Hermione had come back downstairs to see where Draco was, when she heard their exchange. She ran back up the stairs. She knew it was too good to be true that Draco would ever accept her.

Draco grimaced, did not answer, and turned back around. What was he supposed to say? He could hardly say that he didn't want Flint to date her, because he fancied her, could he? He went up to the front bedroom. Hermione was already on her knees in front of the trunk. She was performing a spell, waving her wand over the trunk. He walked up quietly, so not to disturb her. She stood back up and said, "This is complicated."

"Why?"

"Well, apparently the good professor, who as you know was well versed in the dark arts, put more protective spells on these old tombs than I'm even aware. The thing that begs the question, though, is why? Anyone could visit a library and read his books. Why protect these first editions?" Hermione looked puzzled.

"I don't know and I'm not sure I care," he admitted. He sat down on the dusty bed, white dust floating around them. He waved his hand in front of his face, coughing. She laughed.

"There are probably bed bugs in that bed, Draco," she pointed out. He stood up in a hurry. Hermione said, "Is there anything else I can work on, because I think this trunk will require Bill's services. He won't be back in the country for a few more days."

Without saying a word, Draco walked out of the large front bedroom, toward the long hallway that led to a thin staircase, which led toward the attic. He pointed and said, "Attic." Hermione followed.

He used his wand to turn on the lights. There was a painting, which immediately caught her eye. "Who's that?" she asked.

"The good professor." He walked over to a large crate and pulled open the lid. He said, "These are some of his writings. He was somewhat of a crackpot, but he was much respected in his field in his day. These writings might bring in a lot of money."

"I've never heard of him, what did he write?" Hermione asked.

Draco was almost embarrassed to tell her. "I'm not surprised you've never heard of him. He was a large supporter of Voldemort. He wrote about blood purity, and about how intermarriage between purebloods and half bloods led to the weakening of magic. He did all sorts of experiments on Muggle-borns and half bloods."

Hermione looked disgusted. "What sorts of experiments?"

"Just experiments. I don't want to discuss it right now," Draco said, suddenly embarrassed.

"Why did you want to acquire an estate from such a horrible man?" Hermione asked, looking at his picture once more.

"Because, he had no living relatives, and his estate will make us a lot of money," Draco answered honestly.

"But, Draco," Hermione said, turning to face him, "What type of people would want to buy things that belonged to someone like that?"

"You would be surprised," Draco said.

"What, like former Death Eaters, or people who want to continue with the sick teachings of Voldemort, whom, I might remind you, was a half-blood," Hermione said.

"Hey, Granger, get off your high horse," Draco said. "I never said I supported his beliefs."

"No, but you're willing to profit from them!" she exclaimed.

"And I don't see the harm in that," Draco barked back.

"Supporting hate mongering is wrong, Draco!" she preached.

"Making money is good, Granger!" he gloated. She glared at him, and pushed past him.

"I quit. I won't do this." She stormed down the stairs.

"Fine, you probably would do an awful job, anyway," he said from behind her. She turned around on the stairs and gave him a dirty look.

"That's not true. You cannot expect me to work among the things of a man who promoted hate! Who thought my kind was lower than his kind! It's asking too much," she said.

She started down the main staircase, but he ran faster, to stand in front of her. "Always so quick to judge!" Draco spouted. "You know what, you're the prejudice one here, not me, and maybe if you help us, you can find out just what a quack this man was and help promote that, instead of promoting his hate filled lies."

"You just want to make your money back!" she said. She ran out the front door. He was quick to follow.

"Listen, Hermione," Draco said. "Why should it matter? The people who want to buy his things have plenty of money. Why shouldn't I profit from that? Why shouldn't your company profit? Why shouldn't you? Be an adult, put past your petty morals, and get back to work." Draco started back inside. This time, she ran up to him.

"Petty moral? So, my morals are petty? The fact that I don't want to work among the things of someone who would have killed me instead of talk to me, you think that makes me the one in the wrong?" she asked. Her voice was not raised. She asked him these question in a calm, even, tone.

"I'm sorry if these things upset you, but I thought you were a professional. I guess I was wrong. Go away, Granger. I need to hire another curse breaker, apparently." Draco walked away from her.

She stood on the front porch for a very long time. Finally, she walked back in the house. She walked up to the third floor, where Draco was digging through the old yellowed pieces of parchment. Without a word, she sat beside him, and pulled out a handful of the parchments. He moved his wand, to open a window. She used hers to conjure a table and two chairs. He used his to move the box on the table. They soon were sitting side by side, not saying a word, working on the same thing.

Interesting, was all Draco could think. He admired someone when he or she could admit they were wrong. Her coming back was an admission of sorts. His working beside her was his own admission. Only, he was not admitting the same thing she was.

Around noon, she stood up and stretched. She moved over to the window. There was a nice steady breeze blowing in the room through the small portal. She looked out the window and pointed, asking, "Malfoy, what's in that building, out there?"

She was facing toward the back of the house. He stood up, and came beside her. His arm was touching hers as he looked out the little portal. "That was his workshop."

"Where he did his experiments?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Maybe," Draco said. He looked down at her. "We haven't really looked in there yet. We've been too pre-occupied with the house." She looked back out of the small brick building, which lay behind the little cottages.

She put her hand up on the windowpane. She said, "Just from the things I've read this morning, I'm beginning to realize how charismatic this man must have been. Charismatic people who promote hate and lies are dangerous, you know?"

He nodded and looked right at her. "Yes, I do know." She looked back at him. "Let's go down and get some lunch, Granger." He wondered if she would want to join him for lunch somewhere, maybe at that nice little café. He motioned with his hand to the stairs. She started down the stairs, with him right behind. She turned suddenly, to face him, which caused him almost to stumble. He had to put his hands out in front of him, which meant that he grabbed her shoulders. "Why did you stop? I almost knocked you down the stairs," he asked.

They were standing one-step apart and his arms where still on her shoulders. She looked up at him, and was about to ask him if he wanted to come to her flat for lunch, but at the last moment, she changed her mind. He probably wouldn't want to do that. She said, "Nothing, never mind." She looked at one of his hands, on her shoulders. He quickly removed them. She turned back around, and this time, ran all the way down the stairs. He ran right behind her. When they reached the main foyer, Marcus was standing there.

"Hey I was about to come get you two. Time for lunch," he said.

"That's why we came down," Hermione said.

"Shall we?" Marcus said, offering her his arm. She looked back at Draco. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, frowning.

Looking back to Marcus, she asked, "Where are we going?"

"The kitchen, of course," he laughed.

"After you," Hermione said. She looked back at Draco once more, "Coming Draco?"

"No, I'm going home for lunch," he said with a sneer. He walked out the front door, slammed it as hard as he could, and disapparated away. Hermione glanced back for the third time, just as they reached the kitchen door, but Draco was long gone.


	4. A Splinter

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 4 – A Splinter: **

After enjoying a very nice lunch of salmon and salad, Draco debated on whether or not even to go back to the house. He had other work to do. This was not the only thing that needed his attention. Surely, Marcus and Hermione could handle everything after their cozy, little lunch.

Therefore, Draco almost didn't go back to the house. He almost didn't care. He almost didn't have a crush on a girl he had not seen in two years. However, almost is not a certainty. Therefore, Draco did go back to the house. He did care. He did have a crush on a girl he had not seen in two years, in that order. Damn.

Draco should not go back, he should not have these feelings, and he should not be jealous, but the truth of the matter was that Draco wanted to go back, he had these feeling, like them or not, and he was jealous. There was nothing he could do about the way he felt.

When did he start to like Granger? He hated her in school. He hated her after school. All right, maybe he did not hate her. Hate was a strong word. Despised, detested, disliked. Perhaps all of the above, but not really hate.

He apparated back to the house, and went directly to the kitchen. Maybe they were still enjoying their little tête-à-tête. There was no sign of them in the kitchen. He walked through the house, and saw her through the opened front door. She was sitting on the floor of the large wrap-around porch, with the crate from the attic before her. She had piles of parchments covering the floor, with large rocks holding them in place, less the wind come and blow them away. He watched as she took her wand and accio another rock from the yard to her hand. She set it down on another pile.

Draco walked out the front door and said, "Are you rearranging the garden, moving rocks and such."

"No, silly," she said.

He made a funny expression and said, "Silly?" He leaned against the railing and said, "Too hot and stuffy in the attic for you? It was a little dusty up there."

"I just thought it was creepy and I didn't want to be up there by myself," she admitted.

Draco gave a small laugh and said, "Describe 'creepy'."

"You know…creepy."

"No, I don't know," he joked. "What's creepy to you might not be creepy to me."

She suddenly stood up and walked over to him. She said, "Shut your eyes."

"Why, are you going to do something creepy?" He smiled.

"No, but I'm going to let you have a mental picture of what I think is creepy. Now, shut your eyes," she said again. She actually put her hand over his eyes. He could feel his breathing become more ragged, as he felt her soft breath on his face. She removed her hand and said, "All right, Draco, imagine you're sleeping, having a wonderful dream about a beautiful woman…"

He opened his eyes.

"No, shut your eyes." She put her hand back up to his eyes. Hermione held her hand there and continued, "Now, imagine you're dreaming about a beautiful woman," her breath against his cheek again, "and in your dream you're kissing this woman," he imagined kissing her, "and then all of the sudden, you wake up, and you find that you're kissing Gregory Goyle. Creepy."

He put his hand up to her wrist suddenly, removed her hand and said, "Damn, Granger, that's not creepy. That's sick and repulsive and you might have given me a coronary. If that's what the attic is like to you, then more power to you. Enjoy the porch." He still had her wrist.

He let her go and she sat back down. As she was sitting, she slid the crate over to her and suddenly exclaimed, "OUCH!"

"What?" he asked.

She looked up at him from her place on the porch's floor and held up her index finger. "I got a splinter from the crate," she explained.

She tried to pick it out with her fingernails, but she couldn't get it. He crouched down next to her and said, "May I?" She handed her hand to him, and he examined it.

"Oh, it's so little, it couldn't possibly hurt," he said, releasing her hand.

"It's not small. It's almost the size of a board," she joked. "It hurts."

"Poppy-cock," he said.

"It does too hurt, Mary Poppins," she said, smiling.

"I know who Mary Poppins is, and I hardly think I'm a female nanny from the turn of the century," he said.

"Only Mary Poppins says 'poppy-cock'." Hermione smiled. "Hand my wand to me so I can remove this board from my hand." She tried to reach around him for her wand.

"Your wand? For a splinter? For something that small, you don't even need tweezers. A straight pin would work," he said. He sat down beside her.

"No one is sticking me with a straight pin," she said, pulling her hand to her chest.

"Give me your hand," he commanded.

"Not if you're going to stick me with a straight pin," she said back. "I'm not a pin cushion."

He held out his hand, gave her an exasperated look, and said, "You're such a child."

She frowned, handed her hand to him and said, "Mary Poppins."

He looked at the splinter, and took his nail from his index finger to see if he could pick it out. Then he tried to remove it with the nail of his thumb and the nail of his index finger.

"Ouch, Draco," Hermione said, "please, use your wand."

"No, I almost have it. It's sticking out quite far now," he said. He then did something that totally shocked her. He put her index finger to his mouth, used his teeth, and removed the splinter.

He spat it out over his shoulder.

"There." He stood back up. He didn't face her right away, because he suddenly felt hot and embarrassed. Why, oh why, did he do that? What must she think? He needed to play it cool. He leaned back against the railing, and she was sitting there, still examining her finger. Damn, she was in shock.

"Sorry about that," he uttered.

"What?" she asked, looking up, "Oh, no harm, no foul, you removed it. I was just shocked that you bit me, now I'm wounded even worse. Look, I'm bleeding." She held up her hand. She wasn't bleeding.

He squinted and said, "I don't see any blood. You're such a girl."

"Damn straight," she said.

"You might say thank you," he scowled.

"I might," she answered and she started back to work.

He said, "Do you need any help?" He sat down, pulling the box between his legs. He looked in the box and said, "Hey, it's empty. You're done." He stood back up.

"Yes, I think I have these all in their proper piles. Will you help me take them into the house? We can put them on the dining room table," she said. She struggled to stand, and he held out his hand. She looked at him funny.

"Hell, Granger, it's just a hand. I already had your finger in my mouth; I think you could touch my hand." He rolled his eyes.

"No, it's not that," she said. The fact was she didn't know what it was. She took his hand and he helped her to stand.

Marcus came walking outside and said, "Can you two finish up without me? I have a couple of estate sales to go to this afternoon."

"Yes, leave," Draco glowered. Marcus gave him a funny look.

Marcus turned to Hermione and said, "I'll see you later, Hermione."

"Sure, see you later," Hermione said, struggling to go through the door and keep her piles of parchments intact.

She walked into the dining room with Draco right behind her. They both put their papers down, when Draco said, "What was that about? When is he going to see you later?"

Hermione didn't look up at him, but answered, "He asked me out tonight."

Draco grimaced and inquired, "And you said yes?"

She looked up. "Yes, I said yes. Why, shouldn't I have?"

Draco sat at the head of the table, propped his feet up on the corner, and said, "It's fine, if you have no 'moral code' about dating your employer."

Hermione sighed, sat down, and said, "Don't mock my moral code, and you know what, you and Marcus are my clients, Bill and Charlie are my employers, so if I would want to go out with you or with Marcus, I would have no problem, and neither should you." She got back up and started fiddling with the papers again.

He smiled, for she mentioned him before Marcus in her little statement. He stood up, came behind her, and said, "I just didn't know you liked that type of bloke, Granger."

She turned to face him, smiled, and said, "You mean the nice, tall, dark, good-looking, wealthy type? You're right, there's not much to like." She went back to her paperwork.

"You don't have a boyfriend?" he asked, coming around to the other side of the table and sitting down.

"Not presently. If I did, I wouldn't have accepted his invitation," she said sincerely. She sat down opposite him and said, "What is all this about, anyway? You know, I heard you and Marcus talk earlier. You don't think I'm good enough for him, do you?"

Draco frowned. He didn't know what conversation she overheard where she would have deduced that, but he said, "It's actually quite the opposite. He's not good enough for you. He's a womanizer, a cad, a playboy; take your pick of adjectives."

Hermione came up to stand beside him. She sat on the corner of the table, right beside him. "Are you talking about him or you?"

"You don't know me well enough to make comments like that," Draco reasoned.

"Well, you know Marcus very well, and you're making comments like that about him, which I doubt are true. He's your friend, isn't he?" Hermione asked.

"That doesn't mean I would date him," Draco said.

"I'm sure that declaration would make your parents very proud, Draco," Hermione said and laughed. She started to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. He pushed the chair back from the table, and sat upright.

"I'm sorry, you're right, go have fun on your date tonight," Draco stood up, so he was right in front of her.

His close proximity was unnerving. Hermione couldn't think of anything else to say, so she said, "Are you staying here tonight?"

"Probably not, why?" he said. Her eyes were pretty.

"I just wanted to know, because I was planning on it," she said, "and the thought of staying here by myself, even in the cottage, is creepy to me." She laughed.

"What if you get lucky tonight," he grinned, "You might spend the night with Marcus?"

Hermione sat on the table, because he was so close, and sitting on the table would put her a safer distance from him, and she could at least appear relaxed, even if she was not. "I think that would make him the lucky one," she said. He laughed aloud at her admission. Then she said, "Plus, remember, I'm the girl with the moral code. I don't sleep with a bloke on the first date, no matter how good-looking he is, or how much money he spends on me." She put her hand on his arm, patted it lightly, and added, "Just because some of the people in this room don't have a moral code, doesn't mean we all don't."

His skin felt tingly where she had just touched him. He leaned over her, one arm on each side of her legs. She leaned back, so their faces would not touch. "I have a moral code, Missy."

"Right," she said slowly.

He put his nose a mere centimeter from hers and whispered, "I do."

"Okay, I believe you," she said softly.

He stood back upright and said, "To prove to you that I have a moral code, I'll tell you the truth about Marcus. He's an upright, nice fellow, and you'll have a good time with him tonight." He moved away from her.

She put her hands on the table, and lifted herself off and then she walked around to the other side and said, "Then why didn't you want me to go out with him?"

He walked over to her and said, "I don't know." What a liar.

"If you find out why, let me know," she said evenly. "If it's a valid argument, with strong evidence and credence, then I might be persuaded to cancel my plans tonight." She walked over to a chair in the corner, picked up her purse and sweater and said, "If there's nothing more, I think I'll take off early. Is there anything else you need from me this afternoon?"

"No," he said.

"No?" she questioned. She walked up to him.

"No," he said back.

"Not even a kiss goodnight?" she asked.

He stared at her for a moment. "What?" he asked confused.

She tried to laugh, but it came out strangled. "You know your little joke to me last night, when I asked you if you needed anything, and you said a kiss goodnight. I was just repeating your little joke."

"It's not night," he said. He was now right beside her. "Anyway," Draco said, pulling an imaginary piece of lint off her sleeve, "When I said it, it was funny and charming. When you said it, it was sad and desperate." He smiled at her, so she would know he was joking.

"I guess I'm sad and desperate, then," she said. My, he was close.

"You wouldn't have thought it was funny if I had complied, would you," he asked. He took the last step toward her to close the gap. They were almost touching. She felt lightheaded and she had a tingling in her chest. He was barely breathing.

"We'll never know," she said in a whisper, "for you would never do that."

"Don't hold your breath, right?" he asked.

"What?" she was confused.

"Okay, hold your breath," he said.

"Excuse me?" He was confusing her.

"Nothing, have a good time tonight, Hermione," he finally said. He brushed his fingertips down her cheek, and she didn't flinch, or move away.

"I will," she said softly.

"I know," he said back. He brought his face to hers, and brushed his lips against her cheek. It was over in a second. She stood stock-still. He leaned back to look at her, and then turned on his heels and walked away.

She stayed in the same spot, shocked. When he reached the door leading to the butler pantry, he turned back to her and said, "Oh, and I will be here tonight. Just in case, you wanted to know. Bye."

He left and she just stood there, confused and anxious. He was already out of the room, but she still said, "Bye, Draco," and then she left. After she got home, she thought his little kiss on the cheek was a valid argument against her dating Marcus. She called and canceled as soon as she got home.


	5. An Old Iron Gate

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 5 – An Old Iron Gate: ****  
**  
Draco was once again sleeping on the couch in the cottage when she arrived. It was well after midnight, so she assumed he was sleeping. She didn't know if she would be able to enter the little house, but the door was unlocked. She tiptoed in and glanced once at Draco. She started toward the room she stayed in yesterday. It dawned on her that there was really no reason for either of them to stay there at night, since they could apparate back and forth if they wanted. However, she was not going to sweat the details.

She had almost reached the doorway to the bedroom when she heard him ask, "How was your date?"

She turned around slowly. "Oh, are you awake? Not waiting up for me, are you?" she inquired with a grin.

"Not hardly." Lie number one tonight. "So, you didn't answer my question. How was your date?" He already knew the answer, because Marcus had just left. He told Draco that Hermione canceled. Marcus didn't seem particularly upset by the fact. He wanted to hear what she had to say.

"Umm." She looked at the floor, stalling. What should she say? Should she say, 'You kissed my cheek earlier, gave me butterflies in my tummy, and I canceled my date', or should she be dishonest, and make up a story? She decided for something down the middle. She said, "I just didn't feel like it." There, enough said.

"Why not?" he asked. He stood from the couch and leaned on the wall next to her door.

"Frankly, Marcus is a great guy, but I realized I'm not interested in him that way," she said.

"What harm is there in going out, just as friends? You might find out you like him later," Draco said.

"Goodness, are you channeling my mum?" Hermione asked seriously. Draco laughed.

"Come to my couch, Miss Granger, and tell me your woes," he said.

"Now you are channeling my psychiatrist," Hermione said. However, she went to sit on the couch. "My mum is on my case constantly about my dating, or shall I say, my lack thereof."

"I totally understand," Draco said, plopping down next to her. "My mother is the same. She fixed me up on a blind date just this past Friday."

"That was the night I sent you the message that I was coming here. You mean I interrupted a date? I'm sorry, Malfoy," Hermione said, gasping.

"It was a blind date, didn't you pick up on that part," he asked.

"Was she a bore, and an ugly one at that?" Hermione asked with a gleam.

"No, she was a beautiful pureblood, whom I found very attractive," he said truthfully. He wanted to add, 'but she wasn't you.'

"Well, it's late and I'm dreadfully tired. Maybe we should work on that trunk some more tomorrow," Hermione said, standing.

Draco stood as well and said, "That would be great. Goodnight, Hermione."

She glided over to her bedroom, and walked inside. "No request for a kiss goodnight, tonight?" Hermione asked with a sly smile, as she leaned out of her bedroom door.

"From me or you?" he asked.

"Either," she said.

He walked over to her door and said, "How about a kiss goodnight, Hermione?"

"Not tonight, dear, I have a headache." She laughed. She shut her door. Draco grimaced and started to walk away, when her door opened back up. "You bought that old line? How lame."

"Fine, let me ask again, how about a kiss goodnight?" he asked. He was serious. She leaned over to him, put one hand on his shoulder, and kissed his cheek softly.  
"'Night, Draco." She shut her door.

He stood there longer than he should. He put his hand on his cheek. Such a little request, and a little kiss, but it was more than he could have hoped. He threw himself over to the couch, and crossed his hands behind his head, to go to sleep.

The next morning, he was awake before she was. He was already in the big bedroom upstairs in the main house. She came up with a muffin and a cup of coffee.

He looked up from the floor and said, "Is that for me?"

"Not likely, but you may have a bite and one drink," she offered.

He glared at her and said, "Didn't your parents teach you to share?"

"I was joking. It is for you," she said. He smiled.

"Thanks, I was hungry," he said.

Under her breath she said, "So was I." He started to eat her muffin, and she said, "You know what, that was mine and I'm hungry as well. I was going to be a nice person…"

"Moral code," he interjected.

"Yes, and I was going to be a nice person, not eat in front of you, not let on that I didn't even think of you, and act like I was selfless, but damn, Draco, I'm starving this morning. Why don't we share, as you suggested?" she stated.

He tore the muffin in half, giving one piece to her. "We'll have to drink from the same cup." He looked at her to gauge her reaction.

"I hope you don't have germs," she joked.

"My germs are pureblood germs, so they're of a higher caliber, so you'll be fine," he said, taking a drink of the dark black liquid, and then passing it back to her. "I can tell you didn't make this."

"No, Marcus was just here. He brought this for me," she said. Draco wondered why Marcus did not bring him any. He would not dwell on that.

Hermione leaned down and said, "How are we coming with the trunk?"

"Not very far, actually," he admitted.

They finished the muffin and coffee, and then Hermione started on the trunk, while Draco decided to clean out a wardrobe in the room. He had just opened the door, when before them stood none other then Voldemort, himself.

Hermione fell over in fright, and Draco yelled, "Riddikulus!" The Boggart disappeared. Hermione had her hand over her chest. He ran over to her and said, "Blimey, Hermione, I'm so sorry. I had no idea there would be a Boggart in there."

"That scared me so badly," she admitted. She quizzed, "Voldemort is your worse fear?"

"I guess," he said. That surprised even him.

"A few years ago there was a Boggart in a closet at the Headquarters of the Order, and I opened the door, and I was so scared, I almost wet my pants," she said, to lighten the mood.

"What shape did your Boggart take?" he asked.

She stood back up. "I don't recall," she said.

"Must not have been too scary. How can you not recall?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter, does it?" she said. She went back over to the trunk and pulled it toward the middle of the room. She sat down to examine it.

"Just tell me, if it doesn't matter." He pulled on her sleeve. She stood back up.

"It was your aunt," she said plainly. It took him only a millisecond to catch her meaning.

"I'm sorry," he said. He was. He really was.

"No problem," she said. She cleared her throat and began to wave her wand over the trunk.

He suddenly felt strange around her. He felt guilty for some reason, over something he did not even do. He walked silently out of the room. He went into the bedroom across the hall, and sat down. After about thirty minutes, she joined him. "I looked everywhere for you," she said. She opened the dark coloured drapes, to let in the morning light. She looked all around the walls of the room. It was apparent that this room was once a nursery. There was an alphabet border, torn and grey, around the cornice, and nursery rhyme characters painted on a mural on the wall. There was even a brass crib in the room, as well as some old toys. The room looked long neglected. Draco was sitting in a rocking chair in the corner.

"I thought you said the professor was a bachelor," Hermione stated.

"He was, as far as we know," he declared. He was had just begun to catch her meaning.

"Well, this is a baby's room, so that's odd," she said. She looked at the built in shelves, lined with books and dust. She picked one up and opened it. That was all she remembered. Next thing she knew, Draco was standing over her, with a concerned look on his face. She was no longer in the nursery. She tried to sit up, but her head hurt. She was on the couch in the cottage.

"What in the world happened?" she asked, still struggling to sit.

"Stay," Draco said, "Marcus went to get my personal healer."

"I don't need a healer," Hermione said. She threw her legs to the ground. "What happened?"

"We were in the nursery, and you opened a book and suddenly you were knocked on your backside, and I couldn't get you to wake up," he told her. "You were out a good ten minutes."

"What book did I open?" she asked. He handed her the book.

"Don't open it again," he warned.

She looked at it, and said, "Draco, look at the author's name. Nathaniel Dewey. That's the Professor. He wrote this book."

"He was a children's author?" Draco asked, sitting beside her and looking at the name on the cover of the old battered book.

"That's so weird," Hermione said, "everything we found out about him yesterday, proved him to be a closed minded, bigot who only wrote about blood purity and how to rid the magic world of Muggle-borns and half bloods. Why would he write a children's book? I've never heard of this book. Do you mind if I take this to Bill to examine?"

"Just don't open it again," Draco said.

Hermione started to hand it to him and said, "Here, you open it. Let's see what happens to you."

"Are you a nutter?" Draco barked. He refused to take the book.

"It's to test a theory of mine," Hermione begged, standing up.

"No," Draco said. "How hard did you bump your head?"

"Pretty hard, but that's beside the point. I want to see if you have the same reaction. You can open it while sitting on the bed," she said.

He was about to tell her she was crazy again, but Marcus came flying in the room. "Your healer can't come!" Marcus shouted. Then he saw Hermione. "Hermione, are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine, a slight concussion, maybe. Marcus, are you a pureblood?" she asked.

Marcus looked at Draco and said, "We should get her to St. Mungos, she's not making sense." Draco nodded.

Hermione stomped her foot like a child and said, "Dammit, answer the question, are you a pureblood?"

"Yes," he said. She handed him the book.

"Open that book," she said. He was about to and Draco grabbed it out of his hand.

"You are daft!" Draco shouted to Hermione.

"What's going on here?" Marcus asked. "Is this the book you opened when you blacked out?"

"Yes."

"And you want me to open it? You must not like me much," Marcus grinned.

"Please, it's to test a theory. What's the worst that will happen? You'll bump your head on the floor. So what?" Hermione challenged.

Marcus regarded her for a moment, took the book quickly from Draco's hands, and opened it. Nothing happened. He began to peruse the pages. "Just a children's novel," he said. He handed it back to Hermione. "Maybe something else made you pass out."

"I don't think so." Hermione sat on the couch, and before either man could stop her, she opened the book again.

The next thing she was aware of, both men where standing over her, as she lay on the couch. "How long was I out this time?" she asked.

"You are crazy!" Draco shouted. He picked the book off the floor, where it landed when she fell this time, and he threw it in the fireplace. There was not a fire, so Hermione let it be for now.

"From what I've read from this man yesterday, he tried all sorts of experiments, using Muggle-borns and half bloods. He used children, gentlemen, little children, in his experiments. This book is proof that he was a mad man. I don't know the significance of this, but I know it means something. Something more than just selling a bunch of antiquities for massive amounts of money."

Draco looked at Marcus, and said, "I hate to admit this, but she's right, we have more here than meets the eye."

Marcus sat beside her, but said to Malfoy, "We can't sell this stuff, until we're sure it's all safe, otherwise, we'll be answering to the Ministry."

"What do you need to do, Granger?" Draco asked.

"First, I need to talk to the Weasley brothers. I'll be back," she stood up, and wobbled. Draco ran up to her.

"You're walking like you're pissed," he said. "You really did hit your head hard. You shouldn't apparate. I'll take you where you want to go." She nodded in agreement.

Thankfully, Bill was back from his trip. Hermione explained everything to him. It was decided that he and Charlie would come to the house is two days time, and would personally examine the entire place. Bill warned Hermione to stop her involvement immediately. That didn't please her in the least. It didn't please Draco either.

They walked out of Bill's house, and Hermione said, "Well, that spoils everything."

"What does it spoil?" Draco asked. He knew what he thought it spoiled, but she probably was talking about her work.

"Oh, it's nothing. I guess there's no reason to go back to the cottage tonight," she said. She swung open the wrought iron gate and walked to the other side and said, "I might as well apparate back home."

She put her feet on the bottom railing of the gate and let it swing shut with her riding it the whole way. It clanged shut, trapping Draco on one side, and Hermione on the other. Her hands tightly clasped the top of the wrought iron of the gate. She leaned forward. He said, "You could still come to the cottage." He put his hands on the top of the gate, next to her hands. He moved his hands across the smooth scrollwork. When he stopped moving them, he rested his hands on hers. What would she make of that?

"Why should I come back to the cottage?" she asked innocently, with her feet still in the gate. He moved his right hand down to lift the latch. He pushed on the gate, swinging both her and the gate open, so that he could exit the yard. He left the gate opened, trapping her between the gate and the fence.

"You might want to have dinner with me," he said.

"What's on the menu?" she asked.

"Live dangerously, and let it be a surprise," he said seductively. He pushed the gate a few centimeters more, so she was literally trapped and pressed between the opened gate and the fence.

"That might work," she said, her face close to his. She said, "That way, I might get a kiss goodnight, finally."

"Oh, you've been waiting for that, have you?" he quizzed her with a half smile.

"Yes." Enough said, she thought.

"Why wait until night?" he asked. He leaned toward her. With her feet still in the slats at the bottom of the gate, she was as tall as he was. He made the first move, now he was going to wait and see what she would do.

She just stood there, staring at him. He decided to let her go, so he started to let the gate swing shut, which would free her, when she leaned forward, with her hands still holding on tight to the gate, and she kissed his lips, so feathery soft and sweet, he might have imagined it. She looked down for a second, then back up to his face, to see his reaction. He was smiling softly. "Are you going to keep me captive all day?" she finally asked.

"No, for you have to get ready for a date tonight." He moved from in front of the gate, letting it clang shut, with her swinging along for the ride.

She hopped down and said, "Apparate me to my flat, will you. Head injury, remember." He smiled and took her arm.

"I don't know where you live," he suddenly remembered.

"Oh, right," she laughed aloud, "well, just take me to the office. I have some work to get done, because I have date tonight."

"Yes you do," he said. He took her to her office, left her outside the door, and then went back to the cottage. He had a date tonight, as well.


	6. Not Tonight, I Have a Headache

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 6 – Not Tonight, I have a Real Headache**:

Their date was set for eight o'clock. Draco was somewhat happy the date was to be held at the cottage, instead of a restaurant or his flat. This was more comfortable and familiar. It was intimate, not intimidating. He had already showered and changed, and one of his house elves had arrived to prepare the food.

He looked out the cottage window, nervously, and when he turned around, he was surprised to see Marcus standing there.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked.

"I have a better question," Marcus said, "what are you doing here, all dressed up, with your house elf preparing dinner. Are you expecting someone?" His gaze narrowed on his friend.

"No, can't a man have a nice dinner?" Draco asked, sitting in a chair in the corner. His leg was bouncing up and down nervously.

"You're a terrible liar," Marcus laughed. He went over to the fireplace, and picked up the book from earlier. He took the book over to the couch, threw his feet up on the coffee table, and started to look through the pages.

"I'm a wonderful liar. Leave now, but first, put that damn book down," Draco said bluntly.

Marcus threw the book on the coffee table. "Oh, don't worry; I won't interfere with your date with Granger." Marcus stood up, walked over to Draco, and added, "About time you asked her out."

"How do you know I'm meeting Granger?" Draco asked, also standing.

"Well, aren't you?" Marcus gleamed.

"Shut up." Draco turned toward the table.

"You're so eloquent," Marcus said. "It's just, I know you've had a crush on her for years, so it's about time you did something about it."

Draco whipped back around and shouted, "I have not had a crush on her for years! Where did you come up with such nonsense?"

"Well, let's just say when you're really pissed, completely out of your mind, you talk," Marcus said, sitting on the arm of the sofa.

"No I don't," Draco said. It was more of a plea than a statement.

"Yes, you really do. I recall a night several years ago, you had just come back from a disastrous date with some empty airhead, and you and I and Blaise all got rip-roaring drunk, and you started lamenting about how you couldn't you find a beautiful, smart, girl, like Hermione Granger," Marcus said.

"I did not!"

"You did. That's not the only time. I think you've liked her for a long time, but because of your upbringing, you couldn't admit it. I even told her about it, a couple years ago. She was quite shocked," Marcus said, picking the book back up.

Draco rushed up to him, grabbed the book out of his hand, threw it back down, and said, "You told her what?"

"A couple of years ago I saw her at a Quidditch game, she was on a date, and it was a sorry affair, and I told her she needed someone who could challenge her, keep her interested. Then I told her that you and she should get together, since you were both single, and she laughed and said you hated her, and I told her you didn't. That's all." Marcus stood back up. His job here was done. He turned to leave.

Draco grabbed his arm, "Why did you tell her that?"

"Because, Draco, someone had to get you off your bum and make you see that there's a whole world waiting out there. She told me the other day that she tried to approach you right after I told her that, at some nightclub, but that you were a bastard, and you left her before she could even say hello," Marcus explained.

"Bollocks! This was a set up, from the beginning!" Draco yelled. He would not be played.

"Oh, not hardly. I hadn't seen her since that day at the Quidditch match, until she came and saw me in Hospital. I didn't even know she worked for Weasley and Weasley until I had that meeting with her. I would have kept the meeting, you know if I hadn't gotten appendicitis. So, no one is playing you, Malfoy. I really would have gone out with her as well, if she hadn't canceled. Don't be a fool, and mess this up now." Marcus slapped his shoulder, hard, and then disapparated.

Draco frowned. He didn't know what to make of all of this. He still could not help but think that this was a set up. Still, did that mean she had liked him all along? Wait, he did not like Granger for years. He did not! Draco told the elf to leave, that he could serve dinner himself. He was pacing back and forth, when she knocked on the door.

Draco could do one of two things. Open the door, be gracious, and have a nice dinner with a beautiful girl whom apparently he has had requited feelings for, for a long time. On the other hand, he could tell her to go away, because he felt like this was a set up.

He decided he didn't care if Marcus Flint was pulling strings. He did like her, and she didn't deserve his anger. Marcus Flint, on the other hand, was going to be sorry he ever messed with Malfoy.

He opened the door, and gasped. He had never seen her look prettier. Her hair was long and curly; she had on a black and teal dress, with a v-neck, short sleeves, and a tight waist. She was smiling. She handed him some flowers.

"For me?" he asked, opening the door.

"Yes, why should the woman always get the flowers and candy?" she asked.

"Where's my candy?" he asked, putting the flowers on the table, and holding out his hand.

"They're for later, if I have a nice time, a sort of reward, if you will," Hermione answered coyly. Draco smiled. Damn Marcus Flint was not going to ruin this evening.

"The table looks nice, and the dinner smells marvelous," Hermione said. He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to a chair.

"Yes, I worked very hard all afternoon," Draco said. Hermione looked over her shoulder at him with a look that told him she did not believe him. "Fine, my elf worked hard all afternoon." He sat down next to her, instead of across from her. He didn't want to be so far away. He moved the table setting in front of him. He poured some wine in both their glasses.

"This will be the only business I'll discuss tonight, I promise, but Bill wanted me to let you know that he finished removing all the dark curses from the tapestry, so it should be ready for re-sale anytime," Hermione said, taking a drink of her wine.

"Okay," Draco said. He was suddenly at a loss for words. They both began to eat, in silence. This was awkward. Even when Draco went out with a witch he did not like, he always had plenty to say. Usually, he just talked about himself. Tonight he felt tongue-tide, and for the life of him, he couldn't think of one thing to say. Finally, he looked up at her and said the first thing that popped in his head, "You look pretty."

"Thank you. You look nice tonight, as well."

"I don't mean just tonight," Draco said, holding her stare, "I mean, all the time. You are very pretty."

She blushed, which he thought was endearing, and she said, "There's more to me than my looks."

"Oh, no one knows that more than I," Draco said. "You are a smart, talented witch, and you have a hell of a slap. My cheek still stings sometimes from that time you slapped my face when we were young."

"This is a bit awkward, isn't it?" she asked truthfully.

"I don't think so," he lied. He grinned so she would know he was joking. The both continued their meal, and finally Draco said, "Do you still keep in touch with Potter?"

"Of course, he's my best friend. He's so busy; I don't see him that much. Ron, too," she explained.

"Yes, you and Weasley were an item a while back, no?" Draco asked, taking a bite of his fish.

"A long time ago," she said.

"What happened?" Draco asked.

"We just went our separate ways, but we're still best friends," she explained.

"You weren't his type?" He smiled.

She took a small tomato from her salad and threw it at his head. It shocked him at first and he said, "Deportment was never your strong suit, was it?"

"Are you saying I'm not a lady?" she asked wickedly.

"I can plainly see you're a lady, I'm just not sure you act like one," he retorted. He bent his head to take another bite, and another tomato hit his chest. He looked up and said, "Two."

"What does that mean? Two?" she asked.

"That mean's you've hit me twice now, with food of all things, and if you do it a third time, I won't be responsible," he said, raising his eyebrows. She picked up her last little red tomato. She threw it up in the air and caught it. He warned, "I mean it, Granger. No more throwing food. You won't like the consequences."

"She glared at him; her head turned slightly, her mouth set in a firm line, raised slightly on one end, so she looked like she was half-smiling. She said, "I'll take my chances." She threw the last small tomato, and he caught it in his hand. He put in on his plate, and scooted his chair out from the table.

"One, two, three…" he said slowly.

"Oh look, Malfoy can count," Hermione joked.

"When I reach ten, you're going to get it. I'm giving you a chance to run," he cautioned. "Four, five, six," she stood up, "seven," she looked around, and saw nowhere to run, since the cottage was one large room, "eight," she started toward the kitchen area, "TEN!" he caught her around the waist, swinging her around. He swung her over to the couch, sitting down with her on his lap.

"Let me up, you brute," she said with a smile, "and you forgot nine. I guess you can't count after all."

He sighed. It was heaven having her so close, in his arms. However, he didn't want to rush things, so he let her up. She stood up and said, "Let's have dessert on the couch." She smoothed down her dress, and he could see that she was blushing again. He could not help but smile, knowing he had some type of affect on her was affecting him as well. She walked over to the couch and brought their desserts back to the coffee table. Then she went to retrieve their wine.

They ate and talked, and it seemed almost too comfortable, unlike the awkward silence from earlier. After they finished eating, he asked, "Do you want some more wine?"

"No, I have a headache," she said.

"I'm not asking you if you want a goodnight kiss," he said, remembering what she had said the last time he asked her for a goodnight kiss.

"No, too much alcohol gives me a headache, combined with my head being bounced on the floor today, I have a slight headache," she said. She kicked off her shoes and folded her legs to the side of her body, facing Draco. He crossed his legs, and turned toward her.

"So, since you've been ordered off this project, what do you think Weasley will want to start with first?" Draco asked. Why was he discussing business?

"Oh, probably with the trunk. I'm still allowed to help, he decided, he just wants me to be careful," Hermione said. She leaned her face on the back of the couch. Draco couldn't help it; he reached over and stroked her cheek.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" he asked.

"I don't think that would be prudent," she said. She suddenly straightened up, and put her feet on the floor.

He added, "No, no, I didn't mean like that. Not in the date sense. I meant, so we could get an early start. All your things are still in your room. Merlin, I was not suggesting that. I have more finesse than to just say, 'hey, you want to sleep with me'."

"Really?" She smiled. She put her feet back up on the couch. "Give me your best pick up line. Like, let's say, you had a really enjoyable date and you wanted it to go further, tell me what you would say."

"I would say, there's an extra hundred in it for you if you go to bed with me," he joked.

Hermione laughed. "That would have probably worked on me, now you wasted it." She closed her eyes. He reached over again and stroked her hair. "Draco, do you have a headache potion I could take?"

He moved closer to her, and touched her face again. "Does it really hurt?" he asked.

"I'm afraid so," she said. He stood up and went to his room. He came back with a brown bottle. He handed it to her, then went and got her some water.

"Drink the whole thing, and then chase it with some water." He sat on the coffee table, watching as she drank the contents of the bottle. She made a funny face; it tasted horrible. She took a quick drink of water. She handed them both back to him, and he put them on the table beside him.

"Let's call this an early night, since you don't feel well," he suggested.

"That's rotten luck," she said. "Now, this will go down in your book as a bad date."

"Never, I shall rate it three stars," he said.

"Three out of what?" she asked. She began to massage her forehead. The pain was becoming worse.

"Three out of ten," he said.

"That's pretty bad. I have never scored that low before. That seriously hurts my self-esteem," she said, trying to smile. She closed her eyes.

He came back to the sofa and sat beside her. He said, "Here, lean up against me, and just keep your eyes shut, until the medicine begins to work." He pulled her to his side, and she gladly responded. She put her legs back up on the couch, and rested her head on his shoulder. He kept his arm around her shoulders. "I've decided this date is still three stars, but out of four," he said.

"That's good, more fair," she said, eyes still shut. He could tell her headache was getting worse. "I need to lie down," she said. He helped her lie on the couch, and he took off his jacket and put it over her feet. He moved back to the coffee table, and watched her, somewhat concerned. She was still massaging her temples, with her eyes closed.

"Draco?" she said. He had just moved to clear the dishes from the table. He turned to look at her.

"Yes?" he asked.

"My head is killing me," she said. "Help me, please."

He didn't know what to do. "What can I do?"

"Help me to my room. Then, will you get me a cold compress for my head?" She started to stand, but quickly fell back to the couch. He came over to her side, and helped her back up. He took her to her bedroom, and then went and got the compress.

He left her in her room and shut the door. He threw himself on the couch, and groaned. He put his hands over his eyes. This date did not turn out as he planned. He didn't even get a goodnight kiss. He sat back up, and for the first time all evening noticed the damn book from earlier. He forgot that Marcus was leafing through it again. He picked up the book, and then looked back toward her closed door. He took the book and threw it back in the fireplace. This time, he used his wand and set the book on fire. It was that damn book's fault she hit her head today and their date was ruined.

He decided to leave the dishes on the table, and he lay back down on the couch. He would probably sleep there tonight, in case she needed him for anything. He was just dozing off, when she appeared by his side. She was sitting on the couch, beside his body. He felt the sag in the couch from her weight, but continued to play possum. She reached over, stroked his fringe of bangs from his forehead, and bent down and kissed his cheek. She said quietly, "There's your goodnight kiss." She stood back up and padded back to her room. He kept his eyes shut and fell asleep, dreaming of Hermione, and for some reason, burning books.


	7. Where has all the Magic Gone?

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 7 – Where has all the Magic Gone?**

Draco woke up startled. He sat up, disoriented and confused. Marcus was once again sitting on a chair, drinking a cup of coffee. Missing from the picture was Hermione. The last time he woke up on this couch, Marcus was sitting in one chair and Hermione in the other.

"Hey, Mate," Marcus said, "rough night last night?"

Draco looked down at his rumpled clothing, then over at the dirty dishes still on the table. "Something like that. Have you seen Hermione this morning?" Draco stood up and stretched.

"She's already up at the house, I believe. Your date didn't turn out well, did it?" Marcus asked, no longer making fun.

"Why, what did she say to you?" Draco asked, on his way to the loo.

"Nothing, I haven't seen her. It's an assumption, I suppose," Marcus waned.

Draco went to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door, and as he took care of his morning business, he yelled out to the other room, "It's your fault."

"How is it my fault?" Marcus yelled back.

"I'm not sure, but it is," Draco yelled back. He shut the bathroom door, and started to take his shower. As the hot water cascaded down his tired muscles, he strained to remember why it was Marcus' fault. He really could not recall.

Draco joined Hermione and Marcus up at the house. They were in the study. Hermione held up a box and said, "This box is full of nothing but photographs, all old photos, from the looks of things." Draco looked over her shoulder. Each photo was of a single person. They looked almost like mug shots. Hermione said, "On the back of each photo is a name and a date. There are pictures in here of people of all ages. There must be over one hundred pictures."

"Curious," Draco said. He took the box from her, and started looking at the pictures. "By the way," he asked, not looking at her, "How's the head this morning?"

"The head is fine, thanks," Hermione grinned.

Draco walked over to her, and put his hand on the back of her head, in pretense that he was checking her bump from yesterday. "You must have a pretty hard noggin, for there's barely a bump back here."

"I've always been told I have a hard head," Hermione said.

"Well, that's not such a bad thing, is it?" Draco asked.

"I guess not. I am sorry my headache had to cut the date short," Hermione said. He put his hand down.

"Yes, I was upset I didn't get my candy," he told her.

"Or your goodnight kiss?" she asked.

"Oh, I still got that. I wasn't really asleep," he said.

Hermione looked angry, but she wasn't, "You are very good at deception. I'm not sure that's a good thing."

"It can be a very good thing, believe me," he almost whispered, leaning over to her.

Marcus left the room, mumbling something about, "Get a room."

Draco turned around, and yelled, "We were just having a conversation!" Nevertheless, the man had already left.

"Is he in a bad mood this morning?" Hermione asked.

"Who cares," Draco said back.

They worked for several hours in the library. Bill and Charlie had come to work in the nursery and on the trunk. Hermione walked up to the nursery.

"Hi, Charlie, anything interesting?" Hermione asked.

"Very," Charlie said back. He was placing all the books from the shelves in boxes. "Where's the book you opened yesterday?"

"In the cottage, why?" Hermione asked.

"I just want to keep all of these together," Charlie explained. "I'm taking them to a friend I know. He's familiar with some of the professor's teachings, and he wants to have a look."

"Is he a pureblood?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, and I told him about your theory, and he thinks you might be onto something," Charlie told her. "Would you mind getting me that book from the cottage? Just don't open it again," Charlie asked Hermione.

Hermione was about to summon the book to her when Draco walked in the room, and said, "I actually burned that book, last night." Hermione turned around with a shocked expression.

"You burned a book?" she asked.

"Calm down, Granger, it's just a book," Draco said, standing in the doorway, holding out his hands in a defensive mode. Hermione walked past him, shouldered him out of the way, and went to join Bill in the other room.

Charlie laughed and said, "You might have well said you burned a kitten. She would have been just as offended."

"What do you really think happened to her when she opened that book?" Draco asked Charlie.

"Well, let's just say my friend has been researching this man for a while. Do you know he used to do experiments, one hundred years ago, to test children for magical ability. This was before his mid-life crisis, before he published all those books about blood purity," Charlie said.

"No, I have to admit, I knew nothing of the man before I acquired this estate," Draco said. He turned to go to the other room as well. He saw that Bill was removing the books from the trunk. Hermione was watching.

"You opened the trunk?" Draco asked.

"Yes," said Bill. He continued removing the books, and said, "Hermione, levitate this trunk downstairs. I want to take it back to the office. I'll get the books."

Hermione pulled out her wand, and began to levitate the trunk; however, the trunk merely hovered in the air for a moment, and then crashed back to the ground. Both Draco and Bill, who were examining the books, looked up at her.

"Sorry," she said. The men went back to looking at the books, and Hermione once again tried to levitate the trunk. It crashed back to the ground.

"Goodness, Granger, its simple enough magic," Draco said, almost in disdain. He took his wand and levitated the trunk out of the room. Hermione walked behind him slowly. Once the trunk was outside, Draco turned back around to look at Hermione. Hermione was standing on the porch, looking at her own wand.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"Nothing," Hermione proclaimed.

Bill came downstairs and said, "I've decided to leave the books for Charlie to examine later, and I'm taking the trunk back to the office. I'll be back this afternoon." He took the trunk and disapparated.

Draco started back in the house, and he asked Hermione, "Coming?"

"Later," she said. He shrugged and walked in the house. Hermione pointed her wand to a small rock in the yard, and tried to summon it to her, as she did the other day when she sat on the porch. The rock flew right to her hand. Feeling somewhat relieved, she walked around to the side of the house. She was determined to find out what was in the stone building where the professor did his experiments.

She disarmed the lock with her wand, and entered the large building. It was one large room, dark, dank, and very depressing. She lit her wand. There were tables, chairs, and chalkboards. This appeared to be more of a classroom.

Hermione roamed around the large room. She pointed her wand at the windows, to remove the heavy tarps from in front of them. Nothing happened. She tried again, and again, and nothing happened. Hermione felt like screaming in frustration! She could not perform the simplest feats of magic. Why? She reached up and removed the tarps manually. The next thing she knew, the light on the end of her wand extinguished. She said, "Lumos," but nothing happened. She tried once more, said, "Lumos." The wand remained unlit.

She heard Draco calling her name. She didn't answer. Instead, she sat down next to the wall, and began to cry.

Draco finally found her, in the stone building, on the floor, her face, streaked with tears. He approached her cautiously, and without touching her he asked, "What's wrong?"

"My magic, it's gone," she said.

He kneeled beside her, and put his hand on her leg. "What do you mean?"

"What the hell do you think I mean?" she asked, knocking his hand off her leg. She stood up and began to shout, "I can't perform magic! Nothing! I cannot accio anything, I cannot levitate, and I can't apparate or disapparate. I can't even keep my wand lit!"

"When did this start?" he asked.

"I don't know!" She stormed out of the building, and he followed.

"Stop a minute, Granger!" he shouted.

She turned around and said, "Is it asking too much for you to call me Hermione! I've asked you that at least twice now!" She walked away from him and he caught her arm.

"Are we really going to have an argument about what I call you?" he asked with ire.

"Why not? You have nothing to fear, it's not like I can hex you or anything!" She removed her arm from his hand and asked, "Is Charlie still here?"

"No, he left a while ago," Draco said.

"How am I to get home? I can't apparate!" She was near hysterics.

"Maybe you should go to St. Mungo's," he suggested.

"Maybe you should go to hell," she said with a bite.

"Listen, Hermione, I don't know what's going on, but yelling at me isn't going to accomplish anything," he yelled back at her. She sank to the ground and began to sob again. Even without her magic, he was afraid to approach her.

She looked up at him and said, "Will you take me to my flat?"

"If you will tell me where you live, I will," he told her. He put his hand on her arm, and lifted her to a standing position. She told him her address, and they disappeared.

Her flat was in Muggle London, on the third floor of an old townhouse. It was one large room, with an alcove, which contained her bed, and a small bathroom at one end. It was brightly decorated, warm and comfortable. Draco began to walk around, touching things, examining things.

"I know, it's small, but I like it," she said, sitting on the couch.

"I think it's nice. Very homey," he said sincerely.

She sat alone on the couch. He picked up a picture frame to examine the picture within. It was a Muggle picture of her parents and her. He set the picture down and looked at her. She looked so sad and alone. He came and sat next to her and said, "Try to do something now."

She fingered her wand in her hand, for she had not let it go since she left the building. She pointed the wand at Draco, and nothing happened.

"May I ask what you were trying to do?" Draco asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I was trying to turn you into a frog, but nothing happened," she said.

He didn't know if she was joking, but he said, "No, I'm still a prince." He smiled at her, but she was frowning.

She threw her wand across the room, feeling defeated.

"You really need to go to St. Mungo's," he said. He knew her headache from last night, combined with the dark magic from the book, was to blame for her present condition, and he knew that she knew it as well. He didn't want to say that aloud to her, for he felt too guilty about it. He wished he had not burned the book now.

"Please leave, Draco," Hermione said. She stood up and went over to the alcove containing her bed. She lay down on the bed, and turned away from him.

"I don't want to, and you can't presently make me leave," he said. He sat down on a chair, and waited. She would have to face this eventually.

She began to cry again, and with her body still facing the wall, she said, "Who am I without my magic? Where is my place in the world, if it's not in the magical world? It's all I've known for so long." He came up and sat beside her on her bed. She turned to her back, so she could look at him. "I'm nothing without my magic."

"You're still a person. A smart, beautiful person," he said. However, he knew how she felt. He would feel the same way. He was surprised she did. He grew up with magic, so if he lost his magical ability, he would be devastated. Here was a girl who grew up Muggle, lived in Muggle London, and had Muggle parents, and yet, she defined herself by her magic. It made him very sad for her. It also made him regret the way he always viewed Muggle-borns.

Without telling her what he was doing, he took her arm, and took her directly to St. Mungo's.


	8. Not You

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 8 – Not You: ****  
**  
Hermione Granger sat all alone in her room at St. Mungo's, looking out the window. It was a beautiful, sunny, early autumn day, and she was stuck inside, in the same room she had been in for four days. The healers ran a battery of test, used all their healing powers, every potion they could think of, and yet, she still didn't have her powers. She felt sad and useless.

She didn't want her parents to know, so she called them and told them she was out of town on business. She also didn't want any of her magical friends to know. Draco knew, as did Marcus Flint. Of course, Bill and Charlie knew. They promised not to tell anyone else. She didn't want a pack of people to come in, parading the pity around, feeling sorry for her. She felt like she was cast out of some secret society, to which she had always wanted to belong, and she was failing miserably. She was hanging on, by a mere thread, and any day now that thread would break, and she would tumble down, falling, falling, and then fade away to nothingness.

There was a knock on her door. She did not respond. Let them come in, or let them go, she didn't care either way. They came in, and sat on her bed. She turned around. It was Draco. He came everyday. And everyday she totally ignored him. He wanted to know her prognosis, he wanted to know how long she would remain there, but he no longer asked. He learned the first two days that she wasn't going to tell him.

Of course, she blamed him. He knew that. She was cursed while she was working for Draco. Charlie Weasley's friend said that the professor was arrested when he was still relatively young, for conducting experiments on Muggle-borns and half bloods. The specifics were still unclear, as it was many years ago, and it wasn't easy to look at Ministry records, but they deduced it probably had something to do with removing their powers, if his later writings was any indication.

Bill had finally lifted the curses on the manuscripts, which were in the trunk. They were not first editions of his books, at all. They were instead, detailed descriptions of all his earlier works. They were his manifesto, or his journals. They had yet to decipher more than a few pages, as each page was written in some type of code, of the professor's own design. It was tedious, odious, work, but Draco insisted the Weasleys proceed, no matter the cost. His concern was no longer recouping his money. His concern was the silent woman sitting in the chair, staring out the window, trying hard to ignore him.

Of course, just because she was silent, didn't mean Draco was. He had already told her everything they had found. Everyday, he would come in and tell her all the new developments. A few times, she acted as if she wanted to ask questions, but she didn't. Draco could tell the cogs in her massive, intellectual, mind, were spinning out of control, but she was stubborn. She refused to ask questions, even when it was blatantly obvious that she wanted to do nothing _but_ ask questions.

This day was no exception, and while he had no new news to tell her, he thought he would talk about himself, as he would if he was on a date and a woman who was incredibly vapid and boring. Granger wasn't insipid, by any means, but if she refused to talk, than she would have to listen. He plopped back on the bed, crossed his legs, and with his arms under his head, he began.

He began with his childhood. He talked about his parents, and about school. He acted as if she had not gone to Hogwarts. He painted a very different picture of the school they attended. He did so purposely. Perhaps he could get a rise out of her. He talked for over an hour. He finally ended with the date he had, that fateful Friday night. The one before all this happened. The first one they spent at the cottage.

He stopped talking, and looked over at her. She was looking at the floor. He sat up.

"I thought you would never shut up," she said.

He grinned. "You never gave me a reason to shut up. If you weren't going to talk, then I was going to talk."

Hermione still didn't look at him, but she said, "What was all that crap about you being the smartest person in your school, and being the best Quidditch player?"

"Do you have proof that I wasn't?" he asked slyly.

She looked up at him, and held out her arms. "I'm the proof that you weren't the smartest person in school. I was number one in our class every year I was there."

"Okay, that may be true, I don't recall," he said. He stood up and walked over to her. He leaned on the windowsill. "Still, I was the best Quidditch player."

"I think Harry Potter and Oliver Wood would debate that fact, but I don't care about that as much as I have to say a word about how you claim you were the best looking boy at school," she said. She had a slight smile on her face. "Where's your proof that you were the best looking boy at school?"

He held his arms out, the way she did earlier, and said, "Here I am. I am the proof. You can't dispute that one, Granger, I mean, Hermione." He stood up and said, "Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Where?" she asked.

"Can you go outside?" he asked.

"No, I'm too fragile and my condition too precarious," she said, seriously.

"Really?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"See, additional proof you were not the smartest person in school," she said, standing up.

"That may just be proof that I wasn't the most adapt at lying, as previously stated," he corrected.

"Actually, I'm supposed to be discharged today," she volunteered.

"Really? So, do they know…?" He stopped. He wanted to ask if they knew when her magic would return, but he thought that might be insensitive.

She answered anyway, "No, they don't have a clue as to when, or if, my magic will return. They are as clueless today as the day you forced me to come here." She stood up and went over to the bed. "I have to wait for my healer to come discharge me. They said it would be sometime early afternoon. Would you wait for me?"

"I'll wait for you," he told her. In his head, he added the word, 'forever'. "Why haven't I seen any of your friends or family here?" He had wanted to ask that for days, but she was not talking to him at that time, so he couldn't ask.

"I haven't told any of them," she admitted.

"Not even your parents?" he asked.

"I don't think they would feel it's the tragedy that I feel it is. Anyway, I try to keep my magic world from them. It's always seemed to be better that way," she said.

"What about Potter and Weaslebee?" he asked.

"You at least could call him Weasley," Hermione scolded.

"There's so damn many of them, you wouldn't know to which one I was referring, so I called him by my old nickname for him." Draco laughed.

"Just as long as you don't call me by my old nickname," she said quietly.

"You mean, precious princess?" he asked.

"You never called me that! You called me Mudblood, Bucktooth, Bushy head, and my all time favourite, Gryffindor's whore."

"I never called you that!" he said standing.

She said, "Okay, I just made that one up, but it's as likely as 'precious princess'." He smiled. He really did refer to her a precious princess, but only when he was thinking about her to himself. She asked, "Why are you smiling?"

"Who knows?" he said. He would never tell. "So, let's spring you early, Princess Hermione, and go do something fun this afternoon."

"I really should wait to be discharged," she said.

"Live life on the wild side," he said, droning, with little emotion. He knew she would not. He was shocked, therefore, when she went over to the little cupboard, and retrieved her belongings. She looked at her wand, and handed it to him.

"Won't need that," she said plainly. "Go out to the hall, so I can dress." He was shocked she was so compliant, but he wouldn't complain. He put her wand on the bed and left the room.

Moments later, she opened the door. "Is the coast clear?" she asked.

He smiled and looked both ways. "Apparently." He took her hand and they began walking down the hall.

Hermione said, "There's my healer, quick, this way."

They broke out in a sprint, still holding hands, running down one long hallway, and then another. They ran down the stairwell, casually walked down to the main entry, and walked right out the door. He looked at her, she looked at him, and they both smiled at the same time.

She said, "Yes, I'm free!"

He took her hand again, and ran with her around to the corner. "Shall I apparate us somewhere?"

"Yes, but don't tell me where. Let it be a surprise." She was having fun. This little covert operation with Draco was helping her to forget her troubles and woes. He had a devious look on his face, and apparated them to places unknown.

She looked around. "Where are we?"

"A medieval fair, I passed it the other day when I was walking. I thought it would be quaint to see all the Muggles dressed up like fools," he said, pointing to a man dressed like a court jester.

"I'm sure they aren't all dressed up like fools," she said.

"I wouldn't be so sure," he said. She caught his meaning, and slapped his arm.

She started to walk toward the entrance, but he slapped her arm back. "Hey!" she shouted, holding her arm, though she felt no pain, "Don't slap me!" She pulled her hand up and slapped his arm, this time harder.

He slapped her arm back.

She slapped him a third time, very hard.

He slapped her a third time, just as hard, then ran from her. "Malfoy!" she said. "So immature," she said to herself, walking through the entrance and rubbing her arm. "You would think he's four, instead of twenty-four."

Someone grabbed her shoulders, spun her around and said, "Are you talking about me?"

"Yes," she said.

"Excellent. It's nice to know I'm constantly on your mind," he said. They walked along, his hands in his pockets, hers at her side. They laughed at some of the things they saw, he bought her some sweets, and they played a couple of medieval games. They were having a nice day, until they stumbled on a canvas tent, with a sign that said, 'Medieval Wizard'.

Draco started inside, but Hermione remained, feet firmly in their spot. He turned and pointed with his head. She shook her head no. He took her hand, and led her in. He kept her hand.

There was a man, with a long fake white beard, and a pointed hat with stars and moons. Hermione smiled, for he truly did look a bit like Dumbledore. Draco fingered some of the items the man had for sale. There were magic wands, all identical. Hermione, still in Draco's clutches, said, "Perhaps you should buy me one of those. It would work as well as mine does." He looked at her, disapproving.

"Don't say things like that," he said. He let go of her hand. He knew she was just trying to lighten the situation, but every time she made a comment, like the one about not needing her wand, or the comment about the fake wands, it made him feel even more guilty, if that was possible.

He walked over to some 'fake crystal balls', and was going to ask her if she wanted one, remembering how much she hated divination, but when he turned around, he saw her walking out of the tent.

He ran up to her and said, "Sorry I was insensitive back there."

"Draco, take me back to the professor's house. I want to get to work," she said suddenly.

"No, let the others work there, I don't want you there," he said.

"I have to go. I have to see if there's anything I can uncover that will help me," she told him.

"No, not you. Let the other's try to unravel the mystery, but not you," he said frantically.

"Why not me? I thought we already determined I was smart," she said, smiling, "And magic or not, my brain is still intact. I want to help."

"NO!" he almost shouted. People started looking at them. He grabbed her arm, and pulled her over to the side, beside the tent. "Listen, Granger, I don't want you there. It is my property, and I don't want you there! The others will come up with the answers, so let them do it, but not you. I don't want you there!" he reiterated.

Hermione didn't understand. She took his slight personally. "Fine, you don't want me there. That must mean you don't want to spend time with me here. I'm sorry to take up your afternoon," she spat. She turned and began to walk rapidly back to the main street.

He caught her easily and ran in front of her. "Don't you understand?"

"Yes, Draco, I understand. You don't want me there. Anyone but me, you said it many times now, so I understand." She pushed him hard, and continued down the street. She had no idea where she was, or how to get home. She didn't even have any money to call her folks, or a cab. He watched her walk away, and he was going to let her go. Perhaps it would be better for her to think it was personal. He realized, though, that he didn't want her to leave.

He ran to catch up to her again, and once again, spun her around. "Listen, when I said 'not you', I just meant that I didn't want you to come into any more danger. For goodness sakes, Granger, I already feel horrid for what happened to you. I cannot let anything else happen. Not to you. Don't you see what I mean?" He was frustrated. For a smart girl, she was very dense.

He grabbed her arm and took her to her flat. Hermione almost stumbled, as she was not prepared for Apparition. She sat on her couch, until the dizziness subsided. She stood up, prepared to tell him off, but he grabbed both her arms, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard. He let her go, then pulled her to him once more, and this time, he kissed her slowly, but still chaste. He just as quickly let her go, and said, "Not you."


	9. Of Magic and Monsters

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 9 – Of Magic and Monsters:**

To say that Draco was embarrassed by his proclamation to Granger would be an understatement. Well, it was more of a declaration, than a proclamation, but those two words have such a subtle difference, that either way, his statement discomfited him. He more or less told her that he cared for her, and he didn't want her to come to any harm.

It was apparent that he cared more for her than she did for him, which also did not bode well with him. She had yet to make any overt gesture of any kind to him, disregarding her little 'goodnight kiss' the other night. Draco was not even sure that counted, since she thought he was asleep. For all he knew, she thought of him as a friend and nothing more.

He left her apartment without even saying goodbye. Why did he kiss her? Not once, but twice, and both without her express consent, and neither one reciprocated. Fine, they could be friends. He needed friends. If she wanted to come back to work, he would not object. In all actuality, it was not his decision to make. She was an adult, and if she wanted to subject herself to harm and peril, who was he to stop her?

The next day he arrived at the house, and he was going to tell the Weasleys that she was out of hospital, and perhaps she might want to come back to work. He looked around downstairs for a sign of a ginger haired person, when he instead saw a beautiful brunette sitting at the desk in the library, examining the box of photos that she was looking through the other day.

"Hi, Granger," he said, "My apologies, I meant to say, Hi, Hermione."

"Hello, Draco."

"I was about to suggest someone go and fetch you," he said.

She looked at him curiously, and said, "Were you now? Well, Marcus did just that this morning, bless his heart."

Marcus. Draco frowned. She went back to examining the photos. She was putting them in little piles. 'Granger and her piles', he thought.

"You know, I would have come and collected you this morning, myself," he said.

"I thought you made it very clear yesterday that you didn't want me to come back. 'Not you', you said, a million times, so I contacted Marcus, and he came around and got me. I hope you aren't upset," she said, sincerely.

"No, I'm not. I decided you were right. You will bring a lot of insight to our little mystery."

She just looked at him. She didn't know how to respond. She went back to her piles. The silence between them was awkward.

"So, nice day, huh?" he asked.

"Beautiful day, more like spring than early fall," she answered.

Small talk? Were they really reduced to small talk? Even friends went beyond the small talk phase. They must still just be acquaintances. Well, if she wanted small talk, he could accommodate her. Small talk was his forte. "Yes, exceptionally nice weather for September, although it's suppose to rain this weekend."

"I hadn't heard that," she said, with her face now propped up in her hands. She seemed amused by him; she had a smile on her face.

"Well, now you know," he said, coming closer.

"Yes, thank you, it's nice to know, in case I have outdoors plans for the weekend, I can change them now," she said with a lilt to her voice.

"Anytime, Granger, anytime." He walked around the room, and when he looked back at her, she was still smiling at him, wider than before.

"Now that the weather report is over, may I share with you what I have uncovered?" she asked.

"By all means, show me what you may," he said. He sat on the desk, so that his thigh was touching her left arm, as she was sitting on the chair, and her arms were on the desk. She handed him a pile of pictures. He started going through them and asked, "And at what am I looking?" He bent down to look at the pictures she handed him, with his head bowed down; she could feel his warm breath tickling the hairs on her cheek. She had goose bumps. When she did not respond to his question, he asked again, "Well?"

She took the pile from him, her fingers brushing his, and she started to leaf through the pictures, explaining to him her findings as she went. "Do you recall how we originally thought this box contained photos of many different people, of many different ages, well, we were slightly wrong on that account. They are many photos of just a handful of people, all taken at varying ages. This pile is of one person. The first picture has a date on the back, 1933, age 7." She turned to the back, for him to see.

"The next picture is of the same man, age 12, 1938. They go on, every five years, 1943, 1948, age 17, age 22, and so on. The last one ends at 1988. The man was 62 years old." She put that piled down, and demonstrated with a few others. "The earliest picture in the box is from 1922, and the latest picture is 1991. The professor died in 1996, so I can only assume none of the pictures go past that point."

Draco took another pile, of a blond girl, who was very pretty, and leafed through them. He finally asked, "Why?"

"He must have been documenting something, following these people throughout their lives. None of them has names on them. Instead, they all have numbers. The first boy I showed you is case number 12455." Hermione took the pile from him, and stood up, to sit down next to him on top of the desk.

"We're talking about how many people?" he asked.

"This box contains 24 individuals. There may be more boxes, and more pictures. The professor was quite the pack rat, so it might take a while to dig through all his things. Plus, who knows, your staff might have already thrown out some important things, which were not deemed important at the time."

"How can we find out their names, and if we do, how will this help us?" Draco asked.

"It might not help us, but if we can uncover the files that have their names, maybe we could search both Ministry records, and Muggle records, and see if any of these people are still alive, and see if any of them were Muggle-borns. My theory is that they all were," she stated.

Draco said, "It seems Professor Madman kept pretty meticulous records, so I wager to think we'll be able to find those names somewhere." He didn't know what else to say. If this could help her somehow, he would go to the ends of the earth to uncover whatever they had to uncover.

"Bill and Charlie are out in the school building right now, examining the records out there," Hermione said.

"The school building?" Draco asked.

"What you and Marcus assumed was a workshop, we assume was a school. Bill thinks, from reading a part of his journals, and understand this, it's just a working theory, but he thinks that somehow he might have taught Muggle-borns, before their magic was evident, and perhaps it was at that early age that he somehow drained their magic, before anyone would have been any wiser."

Draco asked, "How would he have known they were going to be magical?"

"How does Hogwarts know to send letters to Muggle-borns? That's still a well-guarded secret. Perhaps we should visit the Headmistress of Hogwarts, and see if she will reveal that to us," Hermione said. She hopped down off the desk, and began to put all the pictures back in the box.

"Purification in its basic form means to clear the Magic world of Mudbloods and half bloods," Draco said, almost in a trance.

"Excuse me?" Hermione looked at him. He grabbed her hand and ran to the dining room. He began to look through the papers they placed there the other day.

"I saw something about a project he was working on, called 'Project Purification'. Where is that damn parchment?" Draco said cryptically. He looked up and said, "There was something on one of these parchments about purification of the magical race. There was one sentence that stood out to me." He started going through the parchments again. Hermione looked on, not knowing how to help, since she didn't know for what he was searching.

"Here it is!" he said, holding up a paper. She came over to him, and leaned over his shoulder, looking at the words as he read them aloud. "Purification of the magical world in its simplest term means to rid our world of all Mudbloods and half bloods, not by extermination, but by elimination of their magical abilities." He looked at her, but she was re-reading the parchment. She took the paper from him, and continued to read.

Suddenly, Hermione gasped. She gave Draco back the parchment and said, "Follow me!" She grabbed his hand, giving him no choice but to follow, and ran back to the library. She picked up a letter that was in the desk. "Look, Draco, this is part of a letter the professor wrote. The date is gone, so I have no idea when he wrote it, but read this part," she pointed. Instead of letting him read it, she read it aloud, "Although Voldemort has the right idea; there is no need to murder the innocent. They do not understand that they are a blight to our society and our way of life. For years I have been developing a system which proves to be very effective, and will give us the same results, which is to rid our world of all those of less than pureblood. Voldemort will do anything to justify his end, and so will I, only without murder and mayhem." Hermione gave Draco the letter, and he read it again.

"But why wouldn't he want everyone to know what he was doing, for he seemed to be so proud of it, and he documented everything," Draco said.

"Well, it was also highly illegal, wasn't it? It was easier to carry out his warped experiments if no one was any wiser to what he was doing. Unlike Voldemort, he wasn't in it for the power or the glory. He seemed to think he was on a quest, and his actions were justified. If only we knew what he was arrest for, and when," Hermione said. She grabbed Draco's arm and said, "Why can't we find out why he was arrested? Don't you have any influence at the Ministry? Doesn't the Malfoy name still cause fear and intimidation in the hearts of your fellow man?"

He glared at her closely for a moment, and stood very still. He took a step closer to her, not changing his expression, and she said, "Well?"

"Apparently it doesn't cause any fear or any intimidation, because I tried to intimidate you just now, and nothing," he said.

"I thought you were constipated," she laughed.

"Watch it," he warned. He pointed his finger at her, and she grabbed his finger.

"That's different, isn't it?" she said. She let go of his finger.

He regarded what she said for a moment and said, "How is that different?"

Hermione smiled and said, "Well, because you and I…" she stopped.

"You and I…" Draco prompted.

"Well, because we are already…" she stopped again.

"We are already, what?" he asked. He took the last step toward her, to close the gap. He looked down at her, and he was so close, she had to look up to look him in the eye.

"You smell nice," she said.

"Don't change the subject, and so do you, but, continue, we are already what?" he asked. He took a sniff. She did smell nice. He said it before he knew it to be true.

"You know, we already know each other," she said.

"So?" he asked. He put his arms around her. She rested her hands on his chest.

She had to steady her breathing. "We already know each other too well to be intimidated by the other," she finally said.

He put his nose near her cheek, and touched it slightly to her skin. He let his cheek graze hers, as his nose went to her jaw.

"Oh, that's all you meant," he said in her ear. He was still whispering in her ear, "Though you claim we know each other too well, I don't feel I know you at all, and believe me, you scare me to death, and I'm very intimidated by you." He could feel her body shiver. He was wrong earlier. She liked him as much as he liked her. Excellent. He let her go and started to walk away. She couldn't see the smile on his face. He turned to face her and leaned against the doorframe.

"The Malfoy name doesn't mean as much as it used to, but I'll see what I can uncover," he promised. Draco started to walk out of the room.

"Draco?" Hermione called out.

He turned in the hallway, and looked back in the room.

"Yes, Hermione?" he asked coolly.

"I'm not scared or intimidated by you," she said.

He laughed and said, "Catch up, Granger, we already established that, silly girl. Now, if that's all cleared up, I'll join the Weasleys. You continue to work in here." He started down the hall. She ran out to him.

She grabbed his arm, to turn him around to face her. "Don't you want to know why I'm no longer scared or intimidated by you?" she asked.

"I thought you said it was because we knew each other too well, although I think that's a bunch of bunk," he said. "What's your new theory?"

She put her hand on his face, and kissed his cheek. "It's because I like you too much. I'm head over heels, and there's no turning back. Sorry, Draco, but we cannot just be friends, not now. I thought you deserved to know." She looked sad suddenly, and started back down the hall. She turned once she reached the library, and said, "However, if you just want to be a friend that's fine with me." She walked back in the library.

Where in the world did she get the impression that he just wanted to be friends?


	10. Friends

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 10 –Friends:**

"Oh, yes, we're very good friends now, aren't we, Hermione?" he asked sarcastically, her back to him.

"Friends?" she asked, turning again to face him. "If you say so, I mean, if that's what you think we are, well of course, we're friends."

She walked back in the library, still talking. He followed her back in the room, so he could hear what she was saying. "I guess I misinterpreted some things." She started to sit back in the chair at the desk, but he pulled it away from her before she could sit. He pulled on it so hard that it toppled over. She looked at him strangely. "Why did you do that?"

"Tell me what you misinterpreted," Draco asked seriously.

She frowned and said, "Well, we did go out on that date, although, it turned out all wrong, and we spent yesterday afternoon together, which wasn't all bad, and you visited me in the hospital all those days, and we've even kissed a few times, I know, nothing romantic or passionate, but they were more than friendly kisses. I've never kissed Harry like that. I thought we were starting to have a budding relationship."

He was bowled over by her honesty. Her face turned scarlet. Apparently, her honesty shocked her as well. She was now blushing and she turned away from him quickly. "Budding relationship?" Draco asked, "That sounds odd." She turned back toward him, and she looked hurt. Damn, Draco thought, what an idiot he was.

"Yes, that does sound odd. You and I could never have a relationship. I don't even have my magic anymore," she said evenly. She was now fully composed, and she picked up the chair, and sat back down. She opened the top desk drawer, but he pulled on the chair, which had wheels, and he pulled her away from the desk. He slammed the drawer shut.

"Your magic will come back, so don't even mention that again. That doesn't matter to me. In addition, the fact that we might have a relationship was not what I meant was odd. I just meant the term, 'budding relationship', sounded odd. I'm sorry, but sometimes I'm very uncouth. My mother would be ashamed," Draco said. He put both his hands on the arms of the chair and kneeled down so he was even with her.

"No, I understand, really," Hermione said softly, "I should have known better. I know you said you didn't even recall this incident, but two years ago, when I saw you at that nightclub, Marcus had just told me the week before that you and I should get together, so I saw you, and thought, why not? I walked up to you, and was going to say hello, so I smiled my nicest smile, and waved, but you saw me, frowned, and walked out. I should have known that you didn't really want to be more than friends."

"Granger, stop," he said.

She put one hand on his hand, and said, "Its fine, Draco, we can just be friends. I have to admit, that incident in the nightclub hurt my feelings, but I've moved on, and I'm just so aghast that I've once again misread the signs. I must be making this very hard on you. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I am so sorry. We can be friends, if I haven't mucked things up too much, that is."

"Goodness, Granger, are you finally done talking?" Draco asked. He stood back up. She started to get out of the chair, but he actually pushed her back in the seat, and pulled the chair closer to him. He put one leg on the wheels, and leaned back down, trapping her in the confines of the chair, with his hands once again on the arms of the chair.

"Yes, I'm done," she said quickly. She was offended.

He looked her directly in the eyes and said, "I thought you would never shut up."

"Coming from the man who doesn't know the meaning of the words, shut up," Hermione said, mocking him.

He put his nose almost directly in front of hers, and said, "Finished?"

She sat as far back in the chair as she could, crossed her arms, and shut her mouth tightly, so he would know she was ready to shut up. She finally put her hand up, indicating for him to continue to speak.

"For a smart girl, you are so incredibly obtuse." He stood back up, and once again, she tried to make her escape. This time, he grabbed her around the waist, sat in the chair, and pulled her on his lap.

"Let me talk, then you can leave, okay?" he said. His arms loosened, but remained around her body. She turned so she was sitting with her legs to the side, so she could face him as he spoke. He liked having her on his lap. He said, "You didn't misinterpret anything, Hermione. I thought my feelings for you overshadowed your feelings for me, so I was guarded with my emotions. That night two years ago, in the nightclub, which I barely recall," he lied, "was just my pattern of putting up walls, before people knock them down. I thought I made it clear to you the other day when I said I didn't want you at the house, because I didn't want you in danger, spelled out clearly that I was beginning to harbor deep feelings for you." He did not know what else to say.

She said, "Why didn't you just say, 'Hey, Hermione, I'm beginning to like you, and I don't want to see you hurt, so please stay away from the house'."

"Would that have worked?" he asked sincerely.

She grinned and said, "I would have still ignored you about coming to the house, but I would have at least known how you felt about me. I wouldn't have thought my feelings were one-sided."

"That would have been simpler, wouldn't it?" he asked. "But I'm more complex than that, and so are you."

Hermione put her hand on his face and said, "You are not that complex, you're just a man, and your emotions are like a barren wasteland."

"That's not particularly nice, or true," he said.

"I just meant you can't help yourself," she said.

"You know what, I need you to shut up for a minute again, I'm thinking," he said.

"Before I shut up, may I make a suggestion?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes and said, "Be quick."

"Why do I have to be quick?" she asked.

"Oh shut up already," he said. "I want to give you a proper kiss, and to do that you need to shut your mouth. Well, you can open it after I kiss you, but start with it closed."

She pushed on his shoulders and said, "Okay, that was going to be my suggestion, that we finally have a proper kiss, so that's a bit unexpected that we both were thinking of the same thing, but you know what, I think when you and I finally kiss, a real kiss, like a goodnight kiss, it should be more spontaneous. It shouldn't be with you starting by telling me to shut up, because you want to kiss me, or me saying, hey I have a suggestion, let's kiss."

Draco gave her a dirty look, and pushed her off his lap. She landed on the floor. He stood over her and said, "I don't even think I want to be your friend now, let alone develop our budding relationship. You're too aggravating." He walked over to the door, and she stayed on the floor, mulling over what he said. When she stood back up, he was still standing in the doorway.

"What do you want, my dear friend?" Hermione asked. She sat back down on the chair.

"Let's go on a proper date," he said.

"No, the moment's gone. We have past the point of no return. We are just friends now," she stated. She had a slight smile on her face.

He turned to leave for the last time, he hoped, and she said, "Come to my flat tonight at seven."

He leaned back in the door, "Why would I even consider coming to your flat tonight at seven?"

"For our date," she said matter of fact.

"I agree to this date, and you'll get your surprise kiss, sometime, somewhere, when you least expect it. Yes, tonight, I will probably, most likely, undoubtedly, most certainly, kiss you, Hermione." He raised one eyebrow. He was throwing down the gauntlet.

"I'll look forward to it," she promised. She pretended to go back to work, but she was biting her bottom lip.

He leaped back in the room, and in only four strides, turned the chair back around, and with his face next to hers, he said, "Yes, you will look forward to it, and I look forward to our date. I'm so glad we had this little talk, and put everything out in the open. I'll go out and help the Weasleys now. I'll see you tonight." He stood back up, put his finger on her nose, and then leaned down and kissed her parted lips ever so soft. "Just a preview," he said. He turned around and left the room with the largest smile on his face.

She twirled around in the chair, with a smile just as large.

Draco was going to knock on Hermione's door exactly one minute after seven. He didn't want to appear eager. The fact that he arrived eight minutes early, and had been standing around outside her door, eagerly waiting for one minute after, did not mean he wanted her to know he was eager. To be early was garish, and to be on time, commonplace, so Draco Malfoy was going to knock on her door one minute after 7:00 pm.

Hermione opened the door and said, "Are you ever going to knock on my door? You've been out there forever now; I was beginning to wonder when you were going to knock. I thought perhaps you had changed your mind, and you were contemplating whether to stay. I thought I would finally just open the door for you."

Was she always this tactless? So much for appearing debonair. "I'm sorry. I hadn't changed my mind; I just didn't want to appear too eager." There, Draco could be truthful, too. He took a deep breath. Why was he nervous? This was their second date, not their first. He looked at her closely, and realized that deception would never work with a woman like her. Best always to be truthful.

"Oh, that's alright. I've been ready for over an hour, obsessing over every little detail," she admitted, opening the door wider for him to enter.

"I didn't know if we were going out, or staying in, so I hope I'm dressed okay," Draco said, motioning to his outfit. He had on black slacks and a bright blue button up silk shirt.

"You look wonderful and we're staying in, if that's fine with you." She walked over to the kitchen area. She had on a blue skirt, and a white thin blouse, with a white camisole underneath.

"You look very pretty," he said wistfully. "What's on the agenda?"

She handed him a piece of paper. He said, "Seriously, Hermione, this better not be an agenda."

She laughed, hoping he was joking, and said, "It's a menu. We're ordering take out and I've rented a couple of movies. You decide what you want, and I'll call in the order. I decided we should just do something very Muggle and mundane, since I'm more Muggle now than magical."

"Oh, goodness, Muggle and mundane? After the movie, are we going to do your laundry as well?" he asked, looking over the menu. She threw a cork from the wine at his head. "Why do you always resort to violence?" he asked.

"Because, we aren't doing my laundry!" she laughed.

"But I got all dressed up. I want to do your laundry," he joked.

"Yes, and I told you that you looked nice, but we are not doing my laundry. I'm not ready for you to see my intimate apparel. Besides, you didn't dress for the masses did you? You dressed up for me." Hermione took the menu from his hand, hit him over the head with it, and then went over to the phone to order some Italian food.

As she was talking on the phone, he came up behind her and whispered in her ear, "I did dress for the masses, and if you get to see me as well, lucky you. I need to remind you that you got all dressed up, too." He kissed her neck. She hunched her shoulders and hung up the phone. He then whispered, "I wouldn't mind seeing your intimate apparel."

"No intimate apparel today and I didn't get dressed up to do laundry," she smiled, as she leaned her head back to look at him. "I actually got dressed up just for you."

He put his hand softly down the sleeve of her blouse, feeling the silky material against his fingertips. He said, "You did a ruddy good job of dressing up, but I'm just saying, if you need to undress, for us to do laundry, I understand." He kissed her neck again, his hand finding hers and holding it. She leaned her back against his front. His other hand came around to hold her waist. Her blouse was soft, and so was her skin. He wondered if the rest of her was as soft as her neck. He was patient, so he could wait to find out the answer to that question.

She stepped away from him and said, "Shall we eat here at the table, or over in front of the telly?" She grabbed the plates, and said, "Grab the wine, will you?"

She walked over to the coffee table, and put their plates down. He said, "I guess we can eat in front of the television, since that's where you're leading me."

She laughed.

"Since your flat is so enormous, it's probably just as well to eat here," he said, sitting on the couch, "I might get lost, as there are so many rooms."

"Don't make fun of my flat," she said, pouring them both some wine and sitting down beside him. "If you continue to have a laugh at my flat, you may never get your goodnight kiss," she reminded.

"I'm in charge of the kiss this evening, so I'll decide the who, what, where and when," he reminded her.

"I hope I'm at least the who," she responded.

"You are in the top three," he said. She frowned at him.

They continued to drink their wine and Draco said, "Don't drink too much; I wouldn't want you to have another headache tonight."

"My head is fine," she said. He put his hand on the left side of her head, his fingers deep in her beautiful hair. That simple touch caused a tingling in her entire body.

"It seems to be okay, tonight," he agreed. He just wanted an excuse to touch her.

There was a knock at the door. She stood to answer, and he took her hand, and said, "Don't answer, please. I don't want anything to interrupt our date tonight, and knowing our luck, it's probably a mad scientist selling door to door cursed books."

"It's our food," she said.

"Oh, well, answer the door, but come back quickly," he said. She stepped to the door and thought to herself that it couldn't possibly be quick enough.


	11. Banana Creme Pie

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 11 – Banana Crème Pie:****  
**  
Hermione brought their food over to the couch. She filled his plate, and handed it to him. She began to fill her own plate, when she said, "Excuse me a moment, I need to check something." She put her plate down, stood up, and left the room, for the bathroom.

Draco thought she was very odd sometimes. He waited for her to return to begin eating. She came out of the bathroom, and said, "Okay, I'm back."

"Where did you go?" Draco asked.

"I had to take care of something, okay?" She did not seem to want to tell him, so he would leave it alone. She filled her plate and they began to eat.

"Do you have plans this weekend?" Draco asked. It was probably too soon on this date to ask her for another, but that was his intentions.

"Yes, Saturday I'm going to my parent's house to celebrate my birthday," she said casually.

"Your birthday is Saturday?" he asked.

"No, but that's when we're going to celebrate," she said.

He took another bite of his food and pointed a breadstick at her, and asked, "Is that a Muggle tradition, celebrate your birthday on a day other than you birthday?"

"No, of course not, it's just they still think I'm out of town," she said.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked.

"Today's my birthday," she said, as if it was a commonplace thing. She took a drink of wine, but when she noticed his shocked expression, she put her glass down. "Are you alright, Malfoy?"

"It's your birthday, today?" Draco asked.

"Yes, September 19th. I'm 25 years old today." She spread out her napkin on her lap, and continued to eat.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"Why would I?" she asked back.

He wiped his mouth, threw his napkin down, and put his plate on the coffee table. "Why would you? That's a stupid question. If you had told me, we could have gone out and celebrated! I would have taken you somewhere nice, for a nice dinner, maybe dancing; I would have spent some time, money, effort, and thought on the occasion!"

She finished chewing, took a drink and asked, "So, this isn't nice? You think I haven't put thought and effort into this date. Thanks, Malfoy." She threw down her napkin, put her plate next to his, although she had barely eaten a thing, walked over to her sink, washed her hands, and then went to her bathroom, which was the only private place in the whole flat, and shut and locked the door.

"Hey, Granger, I'm sorry," Draco said. He walked over to her bathroom, and stood outside the door. He put his hands on the door, and placed his face right next to the wood. "I think this is an incredible date, I just meant that I would have done something for you, instead of you doing something for me. Granger? Open the door."

She opened the door, and said, "The only thing that makes this whole situation bearable is the fact that I'm dating a younger man. You are forgiven." She smiled at him.

"Hey, I am younger than you. And, again, remember, I have no manners whatsoever. I am sorry." He took her hand. "Don't you usually do something with your friends for your birthday?"

"Usually, or my folks, but I wanted to spend tonight with you," she answered.

Damn, Draco wanted to kiss her. He really wanted to kiss her, a real kiss, not a stupid kiss on the cheek, or a quick kiss on the mouth, but an honest to goodness, knee buckling, rip roaring, hell of a good time, kiss. He still had her hand, so he pulled her closer.

She resisted. She held on to the door jam with her other hand. "Where are you taking me?" she asked with a grin.

He didn't say anything. He took her other hand, which was holding onto the woodwork around the door. He placed his free hand on top of hers, and began to pry her willing fingers from the doorframe. Now he had both hands, and he pulled her flush up against him. He looked almost lecherous.

"Draco?" she questioned. His arms were now tight around her. She leaned back, against his arms.

He kept his left arm around her waist, and moved his right hand to the back of her neck. He placed it firmly on the back of her neck, so she couldn't move. He brought his lips to hers. With their lips touching, but not yet kissing, he said, "Happy, birthday." Each syllable sent electricity through her spine. He moved his mouth across her cheek, and as his lips moved against her cheek, he whispered, "Happy birthday to you." The 'th' from the word birthday sent a special jolt of lightning through her skin. His mouth rested on her jaw, and moved to her neck, where he whispered, "Happy birthday dear, Hermione," and after her name, he sucked gently on her earlobe, and she felt a tingling in her stomach. He brought his face back to hers, looked her right in the eye and said, "Happy birthday to you," and his mouth landed on hers.

He took his time. He started by gently parting her lips, only a fraction. With equal parts pressure and suction, he began his journey of discovery. He pressed harder still, bringer her closer to his body than ever, and he bit her bottom lip, pulling on it, his tongue swiping it, before his teeth let it go. He had both hands flat on her back, and his mouth left hers only for a second, to reposition his head, so he could further his intent.

His tongue circled her mouth, and he moaned, or she moaned, or someone moaned, and his tongue plunged deeper, touching hers at last, and it was heaven here on earth.

He backed them both up, banging into the counter, and knocking over a bowl of fruit. She brought her hands up to his face, pulling him closer. He walked with her, so she was walking backwards, and they banged against her little table, scooting it across the room.

He picked her up, and placed her on the countertop. He refused to let go of her mouth, so he didn't know where he placed her. It just so happen, he set her down on their dessert, a wonderful crème pie that she had made just for them.

She pushed him away, lifted her hip, and started laughing. "The pie!" she said. Hermione laughed so hard and Draco was still confused. It took him a moment to realize what happened. He put her on the pie!

He began to laugh as well, and said, "I'll still eat it." He took his finger, wiped some crème from her skirt, put his finger in his mouth, and said, "Yum, banana crème."

She was still laughing, and she said, "Help me down." He picked her up, and when her feet landed on the floor, she turned to look at her backside. "I've never sat in a pie before."

He took his wand and said, "Shall I?"

"No, I'll just remove my skirt," she said.

"Great, we can do laundry after all," Draco said.

"No laundry." Hermione started toward the bathroom.

Draco grabbed her wrist and said, "Don't be bashful, change out here,"

"I hardly think so," she said. She pushed on his chest and said, "I'll be right out."

She shut the bathroom door again, and Draco paced outside the door. He said, "Hurry up; we have more kissing to do." He paced some more. He took his wand and cleaned up the mess. He knocked on the bathroom door, "Are you decent yet?" He went back over to the coffee table, took a large drink of his wine, and went back to the bathroom door.

"Honestly, Granger, how long does it take to remove a skirt? I've removed plenty of skirts in my day, and I know it doesn't take that long," he said through the door. He tried the handle. It was locked. He knew it was wrong, but he took his wand, and unlocked the door. He opened it slightly, in case she was indecent, and said, "May I come in?" He didn't see her right away, so he opened the door wider.

She was sitting on her closed toilet seat, skirt in hand, in only her camisole and a half slip. Her blouse was on the floor. He picked up the blouse, and walked over to her. She was just sitting there, staring at her skirt. He put his hand on her shoulder. She looked up. She was crying.

He kneeled down beside her, and said, "Goodness, Granger, its just pie."

She leaned into him, and he put his arms around her. "Earlier today, I was able to perform magic," she said, her head on his shoulder.

He brushed his hand down her hair, and said, "That's great, Hermione."

"No, it's not," she cried. She pushed against him and stood up. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. "I thought it came back, and I didn't want to get my hopes up, so I didn't try it again. But earlier, I was able to perform transfiguration, as well as a simple hover charm. Just now, I tried to clean my skirt. I have been able to perform cleaning charms since I was 12! I couldn't do it! I can't do anything!" She threw her skirt on the ground, and tried to push him out the door. "Just leave, Draco. I'm not fit for your company. Just leave!" She continued to push him. He didn't put up a fight, so she had him all the way out of the bathroom, before he decided to stand his ground.

"But it came back earlier, Hermione," he said. He took her hands firmly in his, and made her stand still. "That has to be a good sign. Maybe it will just take a while."

"AND MAYBE IT WILL NEVER COME BACK!" she yelled. She sat at one of her kitchen chairs and said, "I know you don't understand."

He sat in the other chair and said, "Don't insult me like that! I understand. I know magic is important. Hell, Granger, I don't know what I would do if I lost my magic. You've handled this ten times better than I ever would have. I don't know what else to say to you. I just know we'll figure this out." He put his hands up to his face, and rubbed his eyes. "I don't want to fight. I want to have a nice time tonight."

"I'm sorry I'm ruining your evening!" she said, standing up. She pointed toward her door. "Leave, Draco. This won't work. We've tried twice now, and we aren't meant to date. It won't work."

"You won't let it work," he said, frustrated with her, and with himself. He did feel bad for her, but neither of them could do anything about it now, so why not have a nice evening. He was afraid if he said that to her, wand or not, she would cause him serious bodily harm.

"Wand or not, I will hurt you if you don't leave!" she said.

Draco wondered if she was a mind reader. He walked over to the couch, picked up his plate of now cold food, and continued to eat. "I'm finishing my meal first, if you don't mind. I'm famished." She was shocked. She didn't know what to say or do. He continued to eat. She stood in her kitchen for a total of ten minutes, and then she walked over to her bed, grabbed her red silk robe from the footboard, put it on her body, and came and sat down next to him. She picked up the remote, started their movie, and picked up her plate of food.

"Is this a girl movie?" he asked.

"No, I think you'll like it," she said back.

"More wine?" he asked. He was going to pretend nothing interrupted their evening.

Hermione said, "No, I'm fine." They both finished eating. She stood up and took their plates to the sink. She sat back down beside him, and they continued to watch the movie.

He finally asked, "Why did you go to the bathroom before we began to eat? Was it to try your magic again?"

"You're very smart," she replied as she looked at him. "Yes, I wanted to be sure it was still there. At that point, it was." She turned back to the movie.

"Why did you care if it was back, I mean, I know why you cared, but why at that point, before we ate?" he asked, curious.

"I just didn't want to go through the whole evening, worrying and wondering, that's all," she said softly.

The movie was almost half over, when he turned to her again and said, "I should go to the Ministry tomorrow. See if I can influence anyone to tell me about why the professor was arrested all those years ago."

She turned to look at him and said, "May I go with you?"

"If you'd like," he said. Inwardly he was ecstatic. He wanted her to go with him. He added, "We may have to be scary and intimidating, like you said earlier. I know you can be scary, but how intimidating can you be, Granger?"

"I bet I could shock even you, Malfoy," she said. She turned back to the TV.

He took the remote, and stopped the movie. He said, "Seriously, don't take this the wrong way, because with your wand, you're very intimidating, but show me the best you have without your wand." He knew he was walking a fine line, for she was sensitive about her lack of magic, but he hoped she would know that he was teasing.

She regarded him a moment with a slight stare. She stood up, and put her hands on her hips. Oh no, she didn't think he was teasing. She thought he was serious. She pursed her lips and her brows knitted together. She said, "Draco Malfoy, it's inexcusable for you to mention my lack of magical ability right now, after you saw how upset I was earlier!"

He stood up, raised his hands, and said, "Listen, I was teasing. Please, don't be upset again. Let's finish this date on a high note. I want to finish the movie as well. Just come back to the couch, sit down, and maybe no one will get hurt."

She pushed him, and he fell back on the couch. She sat next to him, took the remote, turned on the movie again, and said with a smile, "Intimidating enough for you, Malfoy?" She turned with a smug expression on her face and said, "So gullible, I swear."

"You aren't nice, and I don't want to play with you anymore," he said. He crossed his legs and threw them on the coffee table. He crossed his arms as well, and glared at the television.

"Feet off the table," she said.

"Make me," he answered.

She turned to look at him, and he removed his feet. "Fine, you get to come with me to the Ministry, and if any of the Ministry officials have their feet on their coffee tables, you can yell at them."

Hermione put her feet up on the coffee table. He kicked them off with his foot. She sighed, and put them up on the couch, next to the armrest. She rested her head on the back of the couch. He said, "I have a pretty soft shoulder here." She gave him a small smile, and leaned against his shoulder. He put his arm around her, and rubbed her arm, up and down, with his fingers.

The movie was very good. He didn't watch Muggle movies very often. He was about to tell her as much, when he looked down at her. Her eyes were closed. He helped her to lay down on the sofa, and he lay beside her, with his back against the back of the sofa. He put his head on the armrest, so he could continue to watch the movie, and he pulled her body closer to his. He kept his arm around her middle. Every so often, he would look down at her. He leaned down once and kissed her forehead.

He awoke with a start. He looked around. The movie was long over, and there was nothing but static on her TV. He picked up her remote, and turned it off. She was no longer on the couch with him. He rubbed his eyes, and looked at the clock on her mantle. It was 4:23 am. He stood up and he went to find her. In such a small flat, that should be no problem.

She was in her bed. She was under the covers, and appeared fast asleep. He wouldn't wake her. He visited her bathroom, and when he walked out, he went over to the alcove where her bed was, and leaned down toward her sleeping frame. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. He said, "Sweet dreams, Hermione." He was going to apparate away, but as he turned to go, she grabbed his hand.

"Stay," she said.


	12. Prince Charming

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 12 – Prince Charming:****  
**  
His thumb rubbed her outstretched hand. He sat on the side of the bed. The little alcove where her bed was tucked so neatly had a single octagonal window, with no covering, so the full moon shone brightly through the glass, lighting the darkness of her room with glimpses of moonlight. The light behind her made her appear to glow. He took a deep breath. Did she really ask him to stay? What did she mean? He let go of her hand, and leaned over her, with one arm on each side of her body, still tucked tightly in the cocoon of her bedding. He leaned down and kissed her mouth, a simple, undemanding kiss.

"I have to go. We need to get to the Ministry tomorrow, well, today," he said. He couldn't believe his own ears. "Besides, I couldn't stay anyway, and we both know it." He stood to leave.

"Why can't you stay?" she asked softly.

He turned his head to look out toward her empty flat. He turned back to her face, then back to the apartment again. Finally, he sat back on the bed, and without looking at her, he said, "Why do you want me to stay?"

She rested her hand on his back, propped her body on her side, and she said, "I just didn't want you to leave yet. I thought we could talk."

Talk. She wanted to talk. He turned back around and said, "I'm not a saint, Hermione. I can't spend the night with you and just talk, and I have a feeling if I pursue other activities this early in our relationship, you might come to regret things, so, I need to leave." He stood up again and walked toward the door. She sat up in bed.

He stood in front of her door, not moving, hesitating. She threw her covers off, and came up behind him. She put her arms around his waist. He looked down, and saw her graceful hands on his stomach. He felt her breasts pressed against his back. He turned around in her arms, slowly. She kept her tight hold of him, and he put his arms over hers, around her waist. He rested his chin on her head.

"This was the best date of my life," he said.

"Stay," she said again.

"Hermione, you're driving me to the point of insanity," he laughed. "Stay, stay, stay. For a smart girl, you have a limited vocabulary. If I stay, we have sex, understand?"

She laughed at his bluntness. She let go of him, and waved him away with her hand. "Leave, leave, leave." She hopped back over to her bed and sat down.

"You want me to leave?" he asked.

"No, I want you to stay, but I was proving to you that I had more words in my vocabulary than 'stay'. Seriously, Draco, I'm not ready to sleep with you, but I enjoy being with you, and I want you to stay, but if you really think you don't have the resolve to just lay with me, and talk, well, go. Leave. I'll see you later." She pulled back the covers and tucked herself back in her bed.

He turned back toward the door, then back toward her. He said, "Fine, but I get the left side of the bed."

"I'm already on the right, so I'm not about to argue," she said. She pulled down the covers on the left side. He came over, kicked off his shoes, and pulled the covers back up to lie down on the bed. He thought it was better to stay on top of the covers. She turned on her side, to face him. Her hand was under her head.

"What's the best birthday present you ever received?" she asked.

He turned, to mirror her body, and said, "My first broom, when I was seven years old."

Hermione said, "Why do men always think their first broom, or their first car, was the best present ever? You know that a broom is a phallic symbol, don't you?"

Draco rolled his eyes and asked, "What's your best present, a book?" He was making fun of her.

"No, my best birthday present was when I was ten. I took my birthday money from my grandmother, and I had my dad take me out shopping, and I was going to buy this, okay, don't laugh, but this book of Irish folk tales, with illustrations, and everything, that I had been wanting forever." She stopped because he interrupted.

"See, I knew it was a book!"

She put her hand over his mouth for a second, and said, "Let me finish." She removed her hand from his mouth, and placed her hand lightly on top of his, which was flat on the bed. She continued, "My dad was walking me to the bookstore, and on the way, we passed a toy store. There were two little girls, one a bit older than I was and one younger, looking in the toy store window. It was apparent from their shabby attire that they didn't have two sickles to rub together. They were looking in the window, and the youngest one told her sister, 'why can't I have a birthday present?' and the older one said, 'because we're poor, and mummy can't afford to buy you presents', and I looked at my dad, and he knew right away what I wanted to do."

"I walked in the store, and I bought a little toy china set, made of real china, with blue flowers, made in Japan, and a porcelain doll, with red hair, and a green velvet dress, and a book of fairy tales. I had enough money left to buy three pieces of candy. I ate one, and then took my purchases outside, gave the bag to the littler girl, and said, 'Happy birthday', as I handed her the bag."

"The older girl said, 'why?' and I said, 'because, it's my birthday, too, and I want to give her a present. My dad took my hand, and we walked to our car and he told me he was proud of me. He took me to get ice cream. That was my best."

He was quiet during her story. He would never have given a toy to another child when he was young. The woman beside him amazed him. He said, "Did your parents then go and buy you your book?"

"No," she said.

"Did you ever get your book?" he asked.

"No, I didn't. I still want it, too." She laughed and then she yawned.

He wanted to find that book and buy it for her. He leaned over, kissed her cheek, and said, "Let's get some sleep. We have some sleuthing to do tomorrow." He pulled her close to him, and moved back to his back. She rested her head on his chest. Her hand played with one of the buttons on his shirt, and she looked up at him. She pushed off her covers.

Without another word passing between them, she leaned over him, and propped herself up so she could kiss his lips. His hands went to her back, holding her tight on top of his body. She slipped one leg over his body, to rest between his legs. Her hip was on top of his erection. She stopped the kiss, and looked at him and sighed.

"I don't know what to do or say," she said in a whisper.

"I don't either," he said. She put her thumb on his bottom lip, and rubbed it softly. She leaned down once more and kissed him again. She was breathing harder. She was kissing him more frantic. She made a small noise in the back of her throat. She moved so she was completely on top of his body.

He was in shock, and he didn't know if he should participate, or just enjoy her advances. He didn't know how far she was going to take this, for it was only moments ago that she told him that she wasn't ready to make love to him. His right hand went down to cup her bum. Her nightgown, which he was just now aware she had changed into, was riding up her body. It only took a few movements of his hand to bring it up to her waist. His hand felt the silky softness of her knickers. He wanted to know what colour they were.

Now he made a noise, because her thigh brushed against his ever-hardening erection, as she made to move her body between his legs. She stopped kissing him, to unbutton his shirt. She moved it away from his chest, and started to kiss his chest, and nipples. Her hands played with his soft, smooth, chest, and her mouth kissed its way down his stomach, then back up. She kissed his neck, sucking hard on his pulse point.

He could no longer be a silent participant in this madness. He rolled her over. His hand traveled up her knee, to the soft skin of her thigh, to her hip. He moved higher, and let his hand rest on her flat stomach. He kissed her neck and shoulders. He reached up further, to touch the bottom of her breast. He pushed her nightgown up, and she assisted, pulled it over her head, and he threw it on the floor.

He took a moment to look at her, bathed in the moonlight. She was glorious. Words could not describe the way he felt looking at the almost completely naked Hermione Granger. He put his hand gently on her left breast, letting it rest. He started to move his thumb, back and forth, over its rosy-beige point. He wanted to taste her, but not until she was thoroughly aroused. He looked down at her knickers, and saw they were light blue. He didn't even know what to make of that. As he continued to admire her silently, his hand traveled from her breast, to the top of her panties. She put her hand on his shoulder. He finally looked up at her face. Her head was angled on the pillow, and she was admiring him, smiling.

"That's a lascivious smile, if I ever seen one, Hermione," he said. He sat up, and finished removing his shirt. He reached down and unbuckled his belt, and pants, but kept them on his hips. He took his fingertips, started at her toes, and ran his hand lightly up her leg, to her knee, to her thigh. He leaned back over her, and kissed her mouth, hard. His hand went to her breast, playing, tugging, and pulling. His mouth went to her other mound, tasting its delicious, erect tip, and his hand began to travel down further.

There was a strange buzzing sound. He looked up, his hand inches from the silky knickers, and he said, "What the hell is that?"

"My alarm clock," she said.

"Why is your alarm going off at," he bent his head to look at her clock on her bedside table, "5:00 am?"

She sat up, and covered her breasts with her hands. She looked around for her nightgown. She reached on the floor, grabbed it, and with her back to him, she sat on the side of the bed, and put her nightgown back over her naked body and then turned off her alarm.

"I have an appointment at St. Mungo's at 6:30 this morning," she said. She stood up and looked down at him. He was on his back, with one of her pillows over his head.

"NOOO!" he yelled into the pillow. The pillow muffled his voice, but he was saying some other things as well, but all she heard clearly were the curse words. She leaned back on the bed, over his body. She removed the pillow and kissed his lips slowly.

"I have to get a shower," she said.

She started to climb off the bed, but he grabbed her arm. "What kind of appointment is at 6:30 in the morning?" he asked.

"Fine, if you must know, I have an appointment at a Muggle hospital, but St. Mungo's arranged it. It's with a Muggle neurologist, who works closely with St. Mungo's. They are doing a MRI scan of my head. My appointment is a 6:30 this morning," she told him. She had a very sad expression on her face.

He let go of her arm, and sat up. He said, "I'm going with you, and afterwards, we will do our detective work at the Ministry, agreed?" He climbed past her, and started toward her door. "I'll go to my house, get showered and changed, and I'll be right back here. Don't you dare leave without me." She stayed on the bed, and he strolled back over and picked her up by her arms. He put his mouth soundly on hers, kissed her again, and said, "That little exchange we just had on your bed was the best goodnight kiss I ever had. We'll have to continue later, agreed?" She nodded. He winked at her and ran out her door.

She stayed on the bed, and hugged her own arms around her body. She shut her eyes, and imagined his lips on her body. She sighed again, and said, "I think I might keep him." She hopped off to the shower, with visions of her prince charming dancing in her head.


	13. Two Thousand Galleons

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 13 –2000 Galleons: **

Draco and Hermione arrived at the hospital, after taking a cab at Hermione's insistence. She didn't want to chance anyone seeing them apparate. The Muggle hospital was a formidable place. It was large, modern, and utterly filled with Muggles. Draco felt lost and somewhat confused. Hermione, who claimed she had never been there before, seemed to know her way around easily. They found the central registration department, and then were escorted to the Radiology department. They said they were taking her to an area called, 'Nuclear Medicine', and that Draco had to wait in a lobby for her. He waited a very long time, all alone. He felt uncomfortable and uneasy.

She came back out to him, with a smile. She had a bandage on her arm. When he asked why, she said, "I just had a PET scan, and that's where I had my IV." Draco didn't understand what that meant. "They said you can go back to MRI with me. There's a waiting room back there." They walked along, escorted by a very tall Muggle man, who kept giving Granger compliments. Draco was outraged. Wasn't it apparent they were together? Draco couldn't help but feel possessive, even though he could not yet define their relationship. He reached down and took her hand. Maybe that would shut the man up. Hermione held tightly to Draco's hand. He looked at her, and thought that he should have held her hand earlier. She was probably scared.

They finally entered the MRI department, and Draco was told to sit and wait. There was a television on the wall, and magazines, as well as coffee and tea. Draco did not want any of it. He just wanted to get the hell out of there, and take her with him.

She was in there forever, not as long as she was gone earlier, but still a long time. When she finally came out, she said, "I need to wait for the doctor." She told him about the first test, the PET scan. She explained that they gave an IV, that was radioactive, and she had to remain still, while photographs of her brain were taken. She told him about the MRI next, how it worked different, for it worked on radio waves, that it was a big machine, and how loud it was, and how they played music for her, and at one point, during the first test, she felt so claustrophobic that she thought she might run away. She kept jabbering away, nervous, Draco assumed. He let her talk, not interrupting her once. He held her hand the whole time.

A man in light blue scrubs, with scruffy dark blonde hair, walked toward them, and held out his hand. He shook Draco's hand first, and then Hermione's. He smiled and showed them to a small room. He pointed toward two empty seats, and then shut the door.

"My name's Doctor Malone. I want to get started by saying that my sister and I are wizards. My mother was a squib, and she was a Medical doctor, so I have grown up in the magic and the Muggle world. I have obtained a healer's licenses, and a medical degree. Of course, no one at this hospital knows my secret, but I've been treating Muggle-borns for St. Mungo's for years. Muggle-born illnesses are kind of my specialty."

Hermione smiled. She already knew all of this. "This is a fairly rare case, as people don't usually lose their magical ability. A long time ago, we discovered that a wizard's PET scans and CT-scans look different from a Muggle's scan. On a PET scan, it's almost like you can see the part of the brain that is magical." He held up a picture and said, "This is a scan of a wizard. See this large red area?" He pointed to a bright red area on the picture. Then he held up a different picture. "This is a normal Muggle's PET scan. No large red area." He put the pictures down.

"Miss Granger had a PET scan first thing this morning, and then we did her MRI. The results are baffling. Your brain under the MRI appears normal, functioning, and appears no different from any other wizard's MRI. Your PET scan, well, is more disturbing." He held up a picture. There were no red areas.

"My magic is gone?" Hermione asked.

"I can't answer that, I can only tell you that your PET scan is normal, from a Muggle point of view, but from a wizard's point of view, it is anything but," the doctor said. He stood up, and regarded the shocked young woman in front of him. "I'm going to contact your healer, and we are going to probably want to do more test, both here and at St. Mungo's. I'll be taking over your case there, as well. I hope we find an answer for you, Miss Granger." Draco stood up, shook the man's hand, and reached down for Hermione's elbow. He stood her up, and ushered her out of the room.

She appeared to be in shock. Dr. Malone told Draco he would have St. Mungo's contact Hermione with the time of her next appointment.

This time, it was Draco leading Hermione through the maze of long hallways, as they left the hospital. They walked outside, and Draco took her arm, and motioned for a cab. They both got in the backseat, and Draco gave the driver her address.

He looked over at her, and she was still silent, motionless, and expressionless. He hadn't let go of her hand once. When they turned down her street, she awoke from her stupor. "Why are we going to my flat?"

"Where do you want to go?" Draco asked, "I'll take you anywhere."

"We have to go the Ministry today," Hermione said desperately.

"I think that can wait until tomorrow," Draco reasoned. "We should have some lunch first," he added.

She leaned toward the front seat of the cab and gave the address of a building near the visitor entrance of the Ministry. Draco didn't argue.

Hermione threw some Muggle money toward the driver, and she and Malfoy walked toward the abandoned looking red telephone booth, and entered the Ministry.

"How are we going to go about this?" she asked.

Draco decided if she was going to ignore what the doctor told her, so would he. "Aren't you the least bit concerned about your scan today?" Okay, maybe he wasn't going to ignore it.

"Draco, we can't do anything about it right now, and this might help me. Come on," she said, dragging him by his sleeve to the reception area.

They checked in and began to wander around the main corridor. "Alright, I know a few people, so let me go see what I can find out. Wait here for me," Draco ordered.

"How are you going to do it?" she asked.

"Just leave that to me," he said, "I have my ways."

"Are you going to use your good looks and charm?" she asked, making fun of him.

He gave her a dirty look and said, "I made a vow to only use my good looks and charm for evil, not for good." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"So, you won't use them even to help me?" she asked, her eyes wide and doe like.

"Don't try your feminine wiles out on me. They won't work," he said, turning from her. They won't work because he was already under her spell, whatever it was.

"Why can't I go with you?" she asked, running up beside him.

"Just wait here," he said, not in the mood to argue.

Hermione put her hand on his arm, and said, "Please, Draco."

Draco looked at her, held her hand and said, "When you put it that way, what can I say?" He smiled at her. She smiled at him. "I can say, NO!" He let go of her hand, and ran down the hall, leaving her alone.

This time it was Hermione waiting for Draco, the way he waited for her earlier at the hospital. He was gone forever. Hermione waited in the lobby, and was finally about to leave, when someone said, "Hermione Granger?"

Hermione turned quickly to see Adrian Pucey. He was a Slytherin at Hogwarts the same time Marcus Flint was. Hermione knew him slightly, because she worked with him a year ago, helping to break some curses that were on his family's vault at Gringotts.

"Hello, Adrian," she said. She forgot that he worked at the Ministry. The thing was Hermione knew tons of people at the Ministry. Harry and Ron both worked as Aurors. Ginny Weasley worked in the Department of Mysteries. Percy Weasley was under-secretary to the office of the Minister, who was still her old friend Kingsley. There were also a number of people she went to school with who worked here. Mr. Weasley had worked here for years. However, she could not ask anyone she knew well enough to help her get the information she needed, without him or her knowing her predicament.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I was waiting for someone," she said slowly. "Hey, Adrian, what department do you work for again?"

"The department of Law Enforcement, but I think you knew that, didn't you?" he asked slyly.

"May I speak with you for a moment?" she asked. She took his arm, and led him to an empty bench. She explained everything to him. She found out long ago that it was always better to be honest.

When she was done talking, he said, "I'm going to tell you what I just told Draco Malfoy, who told me the exact same story, I can't help you." He stood up, smiled at her, and started to walk away. She stood up also, and watched him as he walked away. Draco came up behind her.

"He told you no, too, huh?" Draco asked.

She turned and glared at him. Draco pushed on her shoulder and said, "Go, be scary and intimidating! Make him change his mind! Hurry, before he puts his feet on the coffee table." He was making fun of her.

"I don't have to be scary and intimidating, Draco," Hermione said, pointing her finger at him. "I will use my feminine wiles, maybe they'll work on him," she retorted, straightening her blouse, and fluffing her hair.

"Right, Hermione," Draco said.

"I have feminine wiles," she barked.

"I am well aware, as they have me under their spells at the moment, but I hardly think they will work on Pucey." Draco sat back down, and said, more to himself, than to her, "Who else do I know at the Ministry?"

Hermione turned from Draco and ran after Adrian. Draco just watched her go. It would be fun to watch her make a fool of herself. She was touching Adrian's arm. Smooth move, Draco thought. Men like small touches, but still, this man was a former Slytherin. He knew the ropes.

Oh, look at the hair toss. Did Granger think the hair toss would work? Then he remembered that first day at the house, when she tossed her hair behind her shoulder while they worked in the dining room, and he thought it was the single sexiest thing a woman had ever done. Help him!

Now she's giggling like a schoolgirl. Draco was embarrassed for her. Wait! What was that! That damn man just put his hand on Hermione's shoulder. Take it off this instant!

Draco stood up, about to go over and yell at someone, he didn't care whom, when Hermione came running back over to him.

"He told me how to get down to the record rooms, and he told me the password. He said once we're down there, we would have to disguise ourselves, so we can safely walk to the records room. He gave me these," Hermione held up two little vials. "Polyjuice potion."

"There's no way all of that occurred in the millisecond you were throwing yourself at him!" Draco declared.

"Believe or not, I don't care, just come with me now." She took his hand, pocketed the vials, and led him to the lifts.

Once in the lifts, he whispered in her ear, "It's illegal to use polyjuice potion, you know."

"It's illegal to snoop around the Ministry as well, so what's your point?" she asked slyly.

They reached the lowest sublevel, and exited the lifts. They were the only ones to get out on that floor. Hermione let go of his hand, and said, "We need to change our appearances now." She handed him one of the vials.

"Why do I need to change my appearance? No one will know me here," Draco said.

"Oh yes, that striking blond hair and those slate grey eyes are so commonplace. You don't look like a Malfoy at all," she said sarcastically.

"And what of your bushy brown hair, and that broomstick up your arse. Everyone will know immediately that you are Hermione Granger," Draco said with disdain. She hit his shoulder hard.

"Take the vial!" she hissed.

"Who will this turn me into?" Draco asked back.

"Adrian didn't say. It is not as if he had many choices for us, right there at that moment. He said one was a woman, and one a man. Apparently in his line of work, they have to always have polyjuice potion readily available in case they have to change their appearance quickly." Hermione stopped talking, removed the cork, and downed her polyjuice potion. She made a horrible face. Draco took his as well.

Soon, their appearance began to change. Hermione turned into a beautiful black haired witch. Draco turned into a horribly ugly old man. Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Draco said, "What?" He moved over to look at his reflection in the shiny door of the lift. "HEY! I'm old and ugly!"

"Better you than me," Hermione laughed. "Come on, Grandpa," Hermione said, taking his hand.

They passed several people. A few people told them hello. A couple of people even called them by 'their' names. "Hey, Felicity," Draco said, since that was what people were calling Hermione, "Once we reach the records room, how do we know where to go?"

"Adrian said he would meet us down here, and show us, Willard." Hermione laughed.

"Don't call me that," Draco said.

"It's your name now. I could call you little Willy, if you prefer." She giggled.

"I don't care if you had a traumatic morning, I'm going to get even with you before the days over, Granger, mark my words," he said.

"Make sure you don't break your hip, trying to hurt me, grandpa," she said. They reached the door, and Hermione said the password. The door opened.

They entered a room, larger than it appeared from the outside. There were parchments, and folders, moving all around the room, of their own accord. Draco leaned toward Hermione and asked, "What did you say to Pucey for him agree to this? I offered him 1000 galleons."

Hermione turned toward Draco and said, "Really. Wow. I just told him I would go out with him tonight," Hermione said.

"NO!" Flint was one thing, but making dates with Adrian Pucey, no! "What? Is it your goal to date every former Slytherin?" Draco blanched. "Is Gregory Goyle next on your list?"

"Draco," Hermione said, but she paused. She had no comment, so she just said, "Shut up."

Adrian came in the door and said, "Follow me." He snickered when he saw Draco. They reached an aisle near the end of the massive room. Adrian pointed, "It's up there, somewhere. All the files from court cases and arrests from the years you stated are up there. They are magically sealed, but with Granger being a curse breaker, she should have no problem. Go up and have fun. Your polyjuice potion isn't very potent, so it will wear off before you're through, so DON'T GET CAUGHT!" He held out his hand to Draco.

"I'm not shaking your hand," Draco said.

"No, I want the 2000 galleons Granger promised me," he said.

Hermione smiled, and started toward the magical ladder. She started climbing. Draco looked back at her, then toward Adrian, and then he realized it was a small price to pay, to make sure no one else went out with Granger. He said, "I only have 1500 on me." He opened his wallet and Adrian took the money.

"I know how to find you. I'll get the rest. Be careful, and don't implicate me if you're caught!" Adrian warned. He started to walk away, but turned back around and said, "Hey, Malfoy, so are you and Granger a couple now?"

"Why?" Draco asked. He knew Adrian was a pureblood. He was bound to encounter some ribbing and teasing if he started dating Hermione.

"Oh, it's just, I asked her to go out with me, in exchange for the situation, but she said you two were dating. Was she lying?" Adrian asked, with his pride wounded slightly.

"No, we're together," Draco confirmed.

"Good, I was worried for a minute that I lost my touch," Adrian laughed. "I mean it, be very careful, and get out of here quick. You've already changed back to the Draco Malfoy I know and hate." He left Draco alone.

Draco looked around, and saw Hermione, who had also already changed to her own appearance, high up, walking along a catwalk, at least five stories high, already heading toward the files. "Can't she wait for me?" Draco wondered. He started climbing the ladder and thought, 'she's worth 2000 galleons.' He smiled. Yes, she was worth it.


	14. Names on a Chalkboard

All Characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 14- Names on a Chalkboard:****  
**  
Hermione and Draco began searching the outsides of the boxes for the years they believed the professor was arrested. From Charlie's source, they found out it was 1947. Draco found the column of shelves marked 1945 – 1947. He called over to Hermione. She said, "One of us have to climb the ladder to find the right box."

"I'll hold it for you," Draco said.

"I guess that means I'm climbing, and you don't have to hold it, for it's magical, it won't fall." Hermione started up the ladder. She said, "It doesn't go high enough," and suddenly, the ladder went higher on its own.

"Hermione, be careful," Draco said. She was leaning far to the right, reaching for a box marked Jan 1947.

She started to look in the box, then called down to Draco, "Why did Adrian say we wouldn't be able to look in the boxes without breaking the magical seals? I'm looking in them fine."

Draco looked up to her and said, "Who cares, just be quick."

She looked through the first six months of files, when finally, in a large box marked July 1947, she found a file with the professor's name. This file was in a red folder, and was sealed magically. She couldn't open it manually.

"Draco, use you wand and collect this file for me while I climb down," Hermione said. Draco accio the file to him and she climbed down the ladder. He tried to open the file, but it wouldn't open for him either. He tried to open it with his wand, and still couldn't open it. She came up behind him.

"Can't you open it either?" she asked. She felt useless, because she didn't have the capability to open it, not without magic.

"We'll have to take the file back to the house," Draco said.

"No, I promised Adrian we would look at it here. He said under no circumstances were we to remove it from this room," Hermione said.

"You are such a goody-goody, Granger," Draco said. He pushed the file to her, but she refused to take it. He started to put it under her shirt, by lifting the hem of her blouse.

She hit his hands away, "What are you doing?"

"Hiding the file," he said. He tried to stuff it in her shirt again. She laughed, but hit his hands away.

"Put it in your own shirt," Hermione said, taking the folder from him, as she started to lift his shirt.

He slapped her hand and said, "Fresh. I think we should put it in yours, there's more room, and I might be able to cop a feel."

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione chastised.

"Oh, Hermione, I've already seen your breasts, so what if I want to see them again," he tried to unbutton her blouse.

She hit his hand away again, and he tickled her ribs. "You're so immature," she squealed through her laughter.

"Here, we can put it in your pants, I want to see what colour knickers you have on today anyway," he said. He pulled her to him by the waistband of her jeans.

She hit his hand again and said, "Use your wand and shrink the damn thing and put it in your pocket!"

"That's no fun," he said. However, he did as she suggested, and put the file in his pocket. "Once we get it back to the house, I might not be able to open this," Draco admitted.

"We'll get Charlie to do it, now let's get out of here." She took his hand again, and he liked that. They had been holding hands a lot today. It felt natural, right. It even felt a little daring, seeing how they were on this little adventure together.

They said the password to leave the record room, and Draco looked at his watch. "It's after five o'clock, so hopefully the hallways won't be too crowded."

They made their way to the lifts, and hit the button for the main lobby. They continued to ride the lift, not even noticing when it stopped at level four, and Harry Potter walked in. Hermione and Draco were still holding hands, and chatting aimlessly, so they had yet to notice him. However, he noticed them, and he was frowning. He stood in front of them, facing them, but they were completely oblivious.

"You looked pretty with long black hair, that's all I'm saying, I'm not saying I want you to look that way all the time," Draco said.

"That's what that sounded like to me, grandpa," Hermione said back.

"I still don't know why you wouldn't let me put the file in your shirt," Draco said. "It would have fit. Your breasts aren't that large."

"Maybe I should have put it in your pants," Hermione said back, "I'm sure there would have been plenty of room in there." They both laughed, and then, at the same time, they both looked forward, when they heard a man clear his throat.

Hermione's eyes widened, while Draco leaned up against the back of the lift, and said, "Great."

Hermione let go of Draco's hand and said, "Harry! What are you doing here?"

"I work here, Hermione," he said in an irritated tone. "What's going on here? Why were you holding his hand and talking about putting things in your blouse and his pants?"

"How long were you standing there?" Hermione asked.

"Answer my question first," Harry said.

"Potter, Potter, Potter," Draco said, lazily, "I know you think the whole world is your concern, but some things just aren't any of your business." He reached down and took her hand again. She looked over at Draco, but he was watching the numbers on the lift change. The door clanged open, Draco pushed past Harry, who was still staring at them, and he practically pulled Hermione out of the lift. She pulled her hand from his and ran back to Harry, who was standing outside the lift.

"Really, Harry, nothing's going on. I'll stop by tomorrow and talk to you, okay?" She didn't give him time to answer. She turned back toward Harry, waved, and said, "See you, Harry."

When she was running toward the floos, Harry said, "You certainly will."

Draco ran back to her, grabbed her hand again, and they flooed right to Hermione's flat. As soon as they entered, she pulled her hand from his. "That wasn't necessary."

"What did I do? Are you ashamed of being seen with me or something?" Draco asked.

"No, but," she stopped.

"No, but, what?" he asked, approaching her with anger.

"I would have liked to have explained some things to him, that's all," Hermione said.

"What things? Your magic being gone or about the fact that you're dating me?" He stood with his arms crossed, waiting for the answer.

"Both," she finally said. "Draco, it's just, it's complicated. Harry will never like you, you will never like him, and he is my best friend. It's a thin line to cross, and he has to be handled with kidgloves."

"Were you even going to tell him?" he asked.

"If our relationship had developed, and it seemed real, then I would have had to eventually tell him, but I had no forethought to tell him this early, no," she admitted.

"This early? So, you don't think this will last?" he asked.

"Let's be realistic," she began, "we've only gone out twice, and that hardly constitutes a relationship. We haven't made any declarations to each other, any promises, or commitments. It is just too early. Two dates is too early to tell people."

Draco had told people! He told Adrian just that day. He told Marcus! "Yes, and may I remind you, little Miss Moral Code, you almost made love to me, after the second date!"

"What does that have to do with anything? Also, I would not have had sex with you," Hermione reasoned.

"Stay, Draco, stay," Draco mocked. "You were willing and able, and so about to have sex with me, if that damn buzzer on your clock hadn't interrupted!" He took the folder out of his pocket, enlarged it, and threw it on her coffee table. He turned and said, "I'm going home, I'm tired, I'm hungry, and frankly, I think I prefer my own company tonight. Figure out how to open the damn file on your own." He entered the floo, and left.

Hermione was confused. What did she say wrong? She picked up the folder, and decided to contact Charlie right away.

Draco arrived at the professor's house the next morning, and as he suspected, Hermione was in the dining room, looking over the red file. He wanted to apologize, but more than that, he wanted her to apologize to him. He walked in, but before he could say a word, she jumped up.

"Draco, Charlie opened the file. Dewey was arrested for removing magical abilities from Muggle-borns, but the file says that his sentence was reduced to a lesser charge of doing magic in front of Muggles. He only served six months in jail. I mean, everything is here, all the evidence that the Aurors found out, names of witnesses and victims, and yet, his sentence was commuted, and he was allowed to continue with his horrendous work."

Draco said, "You have to remember something, Hermione, in those days, the Ministry was quite corrupt, and money could easily have bought him a lighter sentence."

"We need to see if we can track down any of the victims in this file. Perhaps someone is still alive. They can tell us how he removed their magic, and if it ever returned," she prompted.

"We will do that, but may I say something first?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Are you angry with me, for the way I acted last night?" he asked.

"No, you were justified. I was going to apologize to you, and I'm planning on telling Harry everything tonight, including the fact that we are seeing each other, okay?" She walked over to him, and put her arms around his waist. He just stood there. He really did think she was very odd. He finally hugged her back. She looked up at him and added, "But I really wasn't going to have sex with you."

"You just lay naked with men on your bed all the time?" he asked.

"Yes, all the time," she joked. "And I wasn't completely naked."

"Bollocks, but you tell yourself whatever you want to get you through the day, Granger," he mocked, "but I know the truth."

"Sure you do," Hermione was humouring him. She sat back down and continued to read the folder. "We need to find more names, I wonder if Charlie and Bill found out anymore in the school building? I think I'll go see."

She stood up to go outside, and Draco said, "I don't think you should go in that building. I have a bad feeling about it."

"Are you psychic now, Draco?" Hermione smiled. "I'll be fine. There's nothing harmful in that old building but cobwebs and dust."

"It's your funeral," he said.

"So dramatic," Hermione said. However, she sat back down and continued to look at the contents of the folder.

Draco sat down also, and began leafing through the parchments she put aside. He barely noticed when she stood up and left the table.

Hermione walked out to the school. Charlie and Bill had been working in there for a week now. They had removed most of the dark magic from the building itself, and were now working on the massive amounts of parchments and books that they found in there. She hesitantly opened the door. She found this place ominous. It was where she felt the most vulnerable without her magic. She wasn't sure why.

She called out their names, and there was no answer. She walked to the back of the building, where there was a little room. It was empty. She saw some wooden stairs pulled down from a trap door in the ceiling. She had never seen them before. She assumed Bill and Charlie must be up in the attic, hence the reason the stairs were down. She walked over and climbed the stairs.

When she entered, she saw a room, which should have been as dirty, dusty, old, and grey as the main room of the school. However, this room was painted brightly; there were small wooden desks lining the room, and the light from the cathedral windows illuminated the whole classroom. This room could have been used for classes just that morning, for that is how bright and new everything looked. The floors were brightly polished, and there was a chalkboard on the wall, with freshly written words. She walked up to the chalkboard, and saw a name. It said, "Agnes Abernathy". Hermione continued to look at the chalkboard, and right before her eyes, a second name appeared. "Derek Grayson." She turned slightly to look around the room and when she turned back to the chalkboard, she saw another name clearly across the chalkboard. "Hermione Granger." What was all of this?

Hermione continued to look at the last name on the chalkboard. She walked up to the name and touched it. The chalk wiped right off on her fingers. She wiped the white powder off her hand, onto her pant leg. She backed up toward the stairs, her eyes never leaving the chalkboard. However, when she reached the stairs, she noticed that they were pulled back up, and the trap door once again closed. She stomped on the trapdoor, trying to open it from the inside, but it was stuck.

Hermione ran over to one of the windows. She saw both Charlie and Bill in the yard, talking with one another. She banged on the window, screaming their names. There was no way they could not hear her.

She picked up one of the little desk, and though it was heavy, she heaved it up and tried to break the window with the desk. Instead, the whole building started to shake. Hermione dropped the desk, and held on to the windowpane.

Charlie and Bill looked over to the school. They saw it as it began to shake and quake. Marcus ran out of the house when he heard the sound of the building collapsing. He yelled for Draco. He ran outside as well, and all four men watched in horror as the school building literally collapsed in front of their eyes.

As Draco ran toward the other men, he yelled, "Granger's in there!"


	15. To Name A Cat

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 15 – To Name a Cat:**

The building began to crumble around her. The floor beneath Hermione's feet bowed up, like waves in the ocean. The windows all began to shatter, glass flying everywhere. Everything happened so fast, that she only had time to process one thought, "I'm going to die."

As the building began to implode, the ceiling fell away, leaving bare beams. She saw the sunlight, for the last time, she was sure, before the floor finally gave away, leaving her to hang onto an exposed beam. Her grip slacked, and she soon fell to the floor below. She fell aimlessly, through the wood and wreckage. Fear racked her soul, and she screamed.

* * *

When the building began to shift and move, Charlie and Bill could only watch in horror, as it seemed too surreal to be true. The roof caved in and all the windows shattered, and it appeared that the building was swallowing itself whole. Marcus ran out of the house at the sound of the noise. He called for Draco, who had already started out the door, to find out what the noise was.

Draco ran out to the yard and he saw the building begin to collapse. He had one thought and one thought only: She was going to die. Wood, timber, slate and stone all imploded before their eyes, and as the old schoolhouse turned to debris, he yelled, "Granger's in there!"

A soul-splitting scream pierced the dust-filled air around the men, and each man in turn knew from whom it emitted.

Terror clenched their hearts, as the building collapsed before their very eyes. They were helpless to stop it.

* * *

She never lost consciousness. Perhaps it would have been better if she had. Everything went dark, but only because she could not see due to the heavy dust and shards from the broken building in which she laid. She felt an incredible weight upon her legs and chest, which restricted her breathing more than the thick dust. Her bronchial tubes began to spasm, which made her even more aware of the heavy weight on her chest. She was aware that she could only move her right hand and her head. She moved her head, but still, she could not see, for everything was dark around her.

She tried to call out for help, but she could barely breathe, let alone scream. No words could escape. She could not even cry, though she wanted to cry more than she wanted anything. She wanted to cry, she really did. She was in terrible pain, and she was frightened and alone. She was more than frightened and alone, she was utterly, horribly, completely, afraid and alone. Unknown to her, four wizards were on the outside, trying hard to save her life, and they were as scared as she was.

* * *

Bill and Charlie Weasley reached the rubble first. There was so much dust and fragments in the air that they had to hold their hands in front of their mouths and noses. Their eyes began to sting from the dust particles. Marcus and Draco reached the wreckage two seconds later. The men all withdrew their wands, and with a single intent, and a single thought, all set about locating her. Each man worked independently, casting different spells. Marcus tried to remove the heavy roof beams, which were on top of the pile, first. Charlie cast a spell to try to locate her. Bill began to help Marcus remove the rubble.

Draco pocketed his wand, and began to move the timber and rubble with his bare hands, yelling for her. He was not sentient of what was going on around him. Removing board after board, he was not even aware of the blood and blisters that were forming on his hands. He had to find her. It was his fault she was here at this house, and in this trouble, in the first place. He had to find her, and he had to do it without magic, for he felt his magic was ineffective against the horror before his eyes. In truth, he was in shock.

* * *

Hermione was in shock. She found breathing more and more complicated. Her mind began to wander. She had odd memories flash before her brain, like a slide show in her mind. She remember her childhood, her first day at Hogwarts, meeting Harry and Ron. NO, NO, NO! People reviewed their lives before they died, did they not? Hermione was not going to die. She did not want to die. She wanted to live.

She began to think of happy thoughts, but not memories. She thought about her date with Draco. It was pleasant. She thought she heard him calling her name. It was probably an illusion. Perhaps people heard things when they were about to die, as well.

* * *

Charlie yelled, "It's hopeless! We will never find her. We need to get some help!"

Marcus continued removing beam after beam, board after board, placing them all on the other side of the large estate. Bill tried to calm his brother down, but then told him to go get help. Bill went over to Draco, and grabbed him from climbing the pile of rubble that was once a building. "Draco, we need you to help us!" Bill implored.

Draco climbed back down, and began to help Marcus and Bill. Even with magic, it was a painstaking job.

Charlie arrived moments later with Harry, Ron, George and his father. They all set about trying to locate her, as well as removing the massive wreckage.

Draco gave up, sat on the ground, and said, "No one could have survived that!" He hung his head in defeat and shame. He decided to give up, for all hope was gone.

* * *

Hermione's mind began to meander again, whether she wanted it to or not. She decided to give up, no longer holding out hope for a happy ending. Perhaps she was already dead. She was no longer in pain, which was odd; for she was certain she had broken quite a number of bones. She was not even afraid anymore. Yes, perhaps this was death. Not a very happy thought, to die like this. Hermione thought if she shut her eyes, maybe she would wake up, and all of this would have been a dream.

She shut her eyes, and saw the names on the chalkboard again. Agnes Abernathy and Derek Grayson. Who were they? What did that mean? Hermione's mind could not even stop trying to solve the mystery as she lay dying. The irony of that was not lost on her. She willed her eyes open. She moved her head to the other side. With her free hand, she tried to move the weight off her chest, though she knew it was useless. If only she had her wand…but as that thought crossed her mind, it just as quickly left her, for her wand was useless to her, and perhaps it would be useless forever.

Hermione closed her eyes again. She did not care if they ever opened back up.

* * *

The noonday sun was high in the sky, and though it was late September, all the men at the site were overcome with sweat and exhaustion. The Ministry was informed, and they sent a rescue team. The building collapsed only seventeen minutes ago. It seemed like a lifetime, to those on the outside, who feared the worst, but hoped for the best.

As they cleared most of the debris away, they began to work more carefully. They knew they were close to finding her. Harry had said a spell, locating her, over five minutes ago. They knew they were working at the right spot, and they knew they would find her soon. Less certain, was whether they would find her dead or alive.

* * *

Hermione could hear voices of people she knew. Her normal reaction would be to tell them all to be quiet, for she was trying to sleep, but somehow, she knew they were trying to help her. She was still lucid enough to know that she was in trouble, and needed help.

The darkness was less invasive now, no longer encompassing her entire being, as small amounts of light began to surface. Of all things, a small calico cat, not much bigger than a kitten, found her first. It walked up to her face, and looked her right in the eye.

"How did you survive the fall, little kitten?" Hermione asked. It crawled under the beam that was across her chest, and huddled next to her side. "I'm not sure that's the safest place for you, kitty." She felt the tears well up in her eyes, and they flowed down her face, to the dirty ground beneath her head. She was crying for the kitten. She did not want it to die. Even she thought that was absurd.

She heard her name called again. She wanted to answer! She said, as loud as she could, though it sounded feeble even to her ears, "Help me!"

* * *

Mr. Weasley said, "Everyone, be quiet for minute, I think I heard her." Everyone quieted down, as Mr. Weasley yelled once more, "HERMIONE!"

"Help me," she said again. They all heard it that time.

Draco was still sitting in the middle of the yard, by the house, rocking back and forth, wallowing in self-pity. Marcus ran up to him and said, "We've found her." He grabbed the other man's arm, and pulled him up. "Get yourself together," Marcus commanded.

Draco followed Marcus to where the others huddled around a small opening in the ruins. They found her!

"HERMIONE!"

She heard someone call her name. It sounded like Ron's dad.

Hermione said, "Help me," for the second time. She continued crying. Why wouldn't they help her? The kitten came out of its hiding place, and curled up next to her face. The fur was rough and soft at the same time. Her tears fell on the little kitten's back. "Why can't they find me?" she asked.

The darkness that surrounded her began to fade even more, as the light from the bright noon sun streaked through the remains of the building. Hermione was no longer swathed in dark, but was now bathed in light. She had to shut her eyes, for the bright sun was too much for her to bear.

She felt someone grab her free hand. She did not care who it was, it was a person, and that meant she was not going to die.

"Hermione?" It was Harry. When did he come?

"Harry?" she said. She was not sure any sound left her lips, for her voice was weak and hoarse. She used her free hand and took a hold of the kitten, and lifted it toward the voice. As if understanding, the hand that had just touched hers reached down and took the kitten.

The hand came back and clasped hers tightly. She heard the person say, "She's alive."

Waking up in a soft comfortable bed, Hermione wondered if she had imagined the school building collapsing. Perhaps it was a nightmare. She must be home, because this was a very comfortable bed. She adjusted her eyes, and noticed that no, she was not home. She was back in St. Mungo's. Damn. After the last time here, she did not care if she ever returned. She moved her head to the side, and saw her mother and father. Did they know everything? She saw them talking to Bill Weasley. Hermione decided to shut her eyes again, and feign sleep. She wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.

Her ruse turned to reality, when she actually fell back to sleep. When she awoke again, the room was dark. For the briefest of moments, she thought she was back in the collapsed building. Panic began to bubble in her chest, only leveling off when someone touched her shoulder. She turned her head to the left, and saw Draco Malfoy.

"Talk about being dramatic," he said. "A collapsed building, how impressive. At least you got my attention."

"Talk about being psychic," she answered back. "You could have just told me the building was going down, I would have believed you. I didn't have to experience it for myself." She tried to smile.

He sat on her bed. She winced in pain. He stood up quickly, and she smiled. "I was joking. I'm fine. Sit back down."

He sat back down. "Even as an invalid, you are mean and cruel," he said, "borderline evil, which I think I admire most about you."

"Enough compliments, tell me, what happened?" she asked.

"I have no idea. I was hoping you could tell me," Draco said.

She told him about the trapdoor, and the attic stairs. She explained to him how she entered a bright, shiny, unused classroom, and how names suddenly appeared on the chalkboard. She told him how the trapdoor closed, the stairs once again pulled up, and how she could not escape the room. She said that without any warning, the building began to shake, and it collapsed.

"Hermione, I was in that attic classroom, the other day, with the Weasleys, and it was nothing like you just explained. It was abandoned and derelict, much like the rest of the building," Draco said.

"I'm not lying," she said anxiously.

"I don't think you are, I'm just telling you what I saw when I entered that attic. It was apparent it was once a classroom, but it was forsaken long ago, in complete ruin, and dilapidated as the rest of the school."

"I don't understand." Hermione began to weep.

He reached over and stroked her face. "Don't worry about it now. The Ministry is forcing us to stop our work. They're sending Aurors over in the morning, to investigate, probably Potter, from the sound of things."

"How hurt am I?" she asked.

"Do I look like a bloody Healer?" he asked, smiling so she would know he was joking. He touched her face again, although this time there was not a tear to wipe away. He just wanted to touch her. He reached down and took her hand. "Not bad, from what I hear. They're quite surprised. I'm just relieved."

"What happened to the kitten?" she asked.

"I don't know, sorry," he said. "Don't worry about that right now."

"I wanted to keep the kitten. It helped me when I was afraid. Try to find it, please, Draco," she said. She thought it was not an unreasonable request.

"I'll try," he said to appease her, "rest now." He stood from her bed, but he still held her hand.

"Draco, I'm not giving up on this." She was no longer talking about the cat. "I don't care if the Ministry is getting involved or not. I need to find out what the professor did. I have a lot at stake," she said, determined.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, before sitting back on the bed. "I was hoping you would say that. I'll try to track down those names you gave me. I still have the professor's file as well. I'll work on this by myself, and when you get home, you can help. Sound like a plan?" His thumb rubbed back and forth on her hand. "Now, try to get some rest. I have to leave."

"Okay and thank you in advance for helping me. Hey, I just had a thought," she said, looking up at him.

"Wow, Granger had a thought. Do tell," he said to her softly.

"This, right here, right now, could be our third date. How about it?"

"You are close to being barmy," he said. "I've always thought you were odd, but this is beyond peculiar. Why do you want to count this as a date?"

"Because I want a kiss goodnight before you leave me," she said.

"I am happy to oblige that request, dear Hermione," he answered. He stood back up, placed his hand on her face, and kissed her parted lips, softly, slowly, gently and hesitantly. "I'll return tomorrow."

"I'll be here," she said, smiling.

Draco waved and smiled, similar to the wave and smile she offered him that day at the café, and the night in the nightclub. He walked out of her room, and turned down the hallway. All her friends and family were in the waiting room. Marcus was standing by the door. He walked up to Draco and said, "I'll leave with you, Malfoy."

The two men walked to the main lobby. They flooed back to their offices. Draco walked to his office, as Marcus walked to his own. Marcus knocked on Draco's door, just a few moments later. He had the little kitten in his hand.

"My assistant said she looked it over, and it's going to be fine. What are you going to do with it?" he asked, handing the kitten over to Draco.

"I'm taking it home with me," Draco said. He never really liked cats, but he liked this one. He took it in his arms, and apparated home. He had no plan in the beginning, when Potter gave the kitten to Marcus. He didn't know she would want to keep it. He just decided to make sure it was safe, on a whim. He put the cat down on his sofa, and sat down beside it. He put his head back on the cushions, but could not still his mind. He could not still the dark thoughts that stirred his soul. He cared for Granger more than he thought, more than he wanted, and more than he dare admit. Almost losing her hurt him more than he thought it should have. He turned to the kitten, and said, "I don't know if you're a boy or a girl. I don't even know what to name you. I'll wait until she comes home, and she can name you."

He picked the cat back up, and stroked it, as it sat on his lap. His lips still tingled from where he kissed her goodnight. There was the briefest of moments that day, when he thought he would never kiss her again. He realized now he was utterly misinformed and mistaken on that account. Now, he knew he could kiss her goodnight every single night of his life, if he so wanted and he did. He wanted that more than he had ever wanted anything his entire miserable, tired, sorry excuse of a life.


	16. Still Sleeping

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 16 – Still Sleeping:****  
**  
"Are you sure you feel well enough?" Draco asked Hermione as they walked up the sidewalk toward a large, well-kept house. He had one arm around her waist.

"Yes, I'm fine, I want to see her," Hermione told him.

"But you just left hospital, maybe we should take you home first," he argued, knowing it would do no good.

"Please, Draco, this is important, and if you didn't want me to come, you shouldn't have told me about it," she chastised.

She had a point, so he didn't argue anymore. It would not have mattered anyway. He could argue until his face turned blue, but he would not have been able to sway her mind.

Hermione was in St. Mungo's for two weeks. In that two weeks time, Draco managed to locate one of the names on the chalkboard. Agnes Abernathy was still very much alive, and they were about to go see her right now.

"Now remember, they don't know we're wizards," Draco cautioned.

"To whom do you think you are speaking? I'm not an idiot," she said, rolling her eyes.

Draco knocked on the door, and a very pretty woman, about 40 years old, answered the door. "Oh, Hello Mr. Malfoy, it's so good to see you again. This must be Miss Granger." She shook Draco's hand, then Hermione's hand. She held open the door. "I'm Christine Wilton, Agnes Abernathy's niece."

Draco had already been here once. He explained to the woman that they were writing a book about the Professor and that her aunt's name had appeared in their research.

She showed them to a large lounge, and they all sat down. "This is my aunt's house. It was once my grandparent's house. I help take care of her, since she had no children," the woman explained.

Draco had not told Hermione very much yet, so Hermione was in the dark. She said, "Might we talk to your aunt?"

Christine gave Hermione a funny look, and then looked at Draco. Draco took Hermione's hand and said, "Sorry, I didn't tell you, Hermione, but Agnes won't be able to talk with us."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

Christine smiled a warm smile, and said, "I'll show you, follow me." She stood up, and walked through several more rooms, on her way toward the back of the house. Hermione and Draco followed. For some reason, Hermione felt apprehensive, so she took Draco's hand.

Christine opened the door, and on a large canopy bed, in the middle of the room, was a woman, who appeared to be sleeping. Even though she must be over 50 years old, she was still beautiful. Her hair was long and blonde, flowing around her shoulders. She had on a lace nightgown, and to anyone unknowing, she would appear to be sleeping. In fact, Hermione asked just that.

"Is she sleeping?"

"No," her niece said plainly, "she's in a coma. She has been in a coma for 45 years, before I was even born. Doctors for decades have been baffled by her case. There was no known cause for her coma, and unlike most people who have been in comas for years, my aunt's health has never deteriorated. Though she appears to be sleeping, her vital functions are always completely normal."

"How is that possible?" Hermione asked, approaching the woman on the bed.

"We don't know," Christine said. "From what my mother told me, her sister was an unbelievably talented and gifted child. So much so, that Professor Dewey, the man you're writing about, sought her out, to teach her at his school. He was very well known at the time, for teaching only the most intellectual and gifted children."

Draco looked at Hermione, and she looked angry.

"When did she fall into the coma?" Hermione asked. She felt compelled to sit on the bed beside the woman, but when she noticed her faux pas, she stood quickly.

"You may sit with her. I do everyday," Christine said. "She was seven years old when he started teaching her at his private school. She won a scholarship, so my grandparents didn't even have to pay her tuition. She was eleven when she fell into her coma, the first time. The Dewey Institute, that's what the school was called, only taught children through primary school, so she would have attended a secondary school the next year, but well, she never attended another school her whole life."

"You said she was eleven when she fell into her coma the first time, so does that mean she woke from her coma, and then went back into one?" Hermione asked. Draco was impressed that she caught that.

Christine said, "She woke up briefly when she was sixteen, but fell back into her coma, and then never recovered again."

Christine walked over to the corner of the room and picked up a box. "Here is a box with my aunt's childhood diary; some pictures from the school, the acceptance letter from Professor Dewey, everything I thought would help you in your research. My mother, her sister, was five years older than my aunt was, and devoted her whole life to taking care of her sister. She died last year of Colon Cancer, so I put her journals in there as well." She handed the box to Draco. "I hope this helps. Will I get a free copy of the book when it comes out?" she asked with a smile.

Draco smiled back at her and said, "Of course."

"Well, stay for a while if you want. You can show yourself out. I even put some photographs of my aunt and my mother in the box. Be sure you get everything back to me when you're finished with them." Hermione went up and hugged the woman goodbye. It seemed the right thing to do. Christine smiled at them once more, and then turned around and walked out of the room.

As soon as she left, Hermione sat back down on the bed, and reached out and touched the sleeping woman's hand.

"So something must have gone wrong. She was eleven, and it was probably time for her Hogwarts letter to come, and perhaps she was still exhibiting signs of magic, especially if she was gifted, and he did something to cause this," Hermione said, still stroking the woman's hand.

Draco thought she was probably right. He also thought what a wasted life this poor woman had. What if that had been Hermione? He walked over to Hermione and said, "We have a lot to uncover, perhaps we should go." The truth was, it made him sad to be here, and he didn't like unpleasant emotions, not when he could do something about them.

Draco and Hermione left the house, the box firmly tucked under Draco's left arm, Hermione's body held by his right. He disapparated with them, and took her directly to her flat.

Hermione sat down and put her hands over her face. "That could have been me."

He was thinking the same thing. He put the box down on her coffee table, and sat beside her. "I wouldn't let that be you. I would go to the ends of the earth to help you." Draco looked at the floor as he spoke. Hermione was touched.

"Maybe we'll be able to help her as well, if we discover a cure," Hermione said. She put her hand on Draco's leg and said, "I know you feel guilty about what's happened to me, but it's the professor's fault, not yours. I don't blame you, so please, don't blame yourself. I would hate to think you're just showing interest in me out of obligation, or because you feel pity for me."

"You think very little of me, don't you, Granger?" he accused.

"Au contraire, Mr. Malfoy. I think too highly of you, I am sure," she said softly.

"Tell me your feelings for me?" he said suddenly, turning to face her on the couch.

"You tell me yours first," she said.

"But I asked you first, and I really need to know," he said truthfully. He could never admit his feeling until he knew hers.

"I like you," she said, her voice cracking.

"You like me?" he asked back, but not in a mocking tone. He could live with 'like' for now.

"I like you, a lot," she said without any qualms.

"I like you a lot, too," he said. He leaned over, one hand on the couch between their bodies, and the other arm on the back of the couch. He pressed his lips to hers. Their lips were the only parts of their bodies that touched, but she felt a wave of excitement, and when he left her lips, too soon in her opinion, he said, "Correction, I like you more than a lot."

"What's more than a lot?" she asked.

He smiled, leaned in once more, kissed her again, a sweet, sentimental kiss, and said, "You're smart, you'll figure it out. I want you to rest a moment, and then we'll start looking through the box. Oh, and I have a surprise for you. Stay here." He stood up and disapparated, only to apparate back in her apartment a mere moment later. He had the kitten in his hand.

"Draco…the kitten!" She stood up and took it from his outstretched hand. "How did you find it?"

"I have my ways," he said. She looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, and he said, "Fine, Potter handed it to Marcus before we rescued you, and he gave it to me." Draco walked over to them and stroked its ears. "I've actually grown quite attached to it. I almost kept it for myself."

"What's its name?" Hermione asked. She held the kitten up, looked at its underside, and said, "Correction, what's his name?"

"I haven't named it. I didn't even know if it was a boy or girl. I didn't know how to tell the difference," he said.

"If you can't tell the difference between a boy and a girl, I am slightly worried for you," she laughed, holding the kitten tight.

"I can tell the difference between human boys and girls, I assure you. So, this is your kitten now, what are you going to name it?" Draco inquired.

Hermione sat beside him and said, "I think I will name him Crookshanks Two." She was joking, and she looked over and saw a disgusted look on Draco's face. "Okay, how about Harry?"

Draco snatched the kitten from Hermione and said, "Bloody hell, Granger, you will traumatize the poor little thing calling him that! We'll name him 'Spot'. Isn't that what Muggles name their pets?"

"Dogs, maybe," Hermione smiled.

"Rover?" he joked.

"I think Ron would be a good name," she joked back.

"NO!" He looked at the little cat and said, "Don't worry, little boy, I wouldn't saddle you with the name Ron or Harry. We'll call you Draco Junior."

Hermione sighed, took the cat from Draco, walked to the kitchen, opened some cat food she had in the cupboard, and said, "His name is Pippin." She put the cat on the floor to eat.

"Where did you get that name?" he asked.

"From two things, Lord of the Rings, a Muggle book, and also, when I was young, my mother took me to a musical, and the main character's name was Pippin. He was King Charlemagne's son. I've always wanted to name a cat, Pippin," she told him. She walked back over to Draco and said, "I think before we even start uncovering the contents of this box, we need to find out how Hogwarts discovers who's magical and who's not. I think we need to start at the beginning. In addition, I wonder if Hogwarts has any files on the professor. Surely, he went to school there."

"So, you want to go to Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Yes, and I'll write to McGonagall, and see if she can spare some time to visit with us. We'll take a day trip there. Hogwarts is so beautiful in the fall," she said. She went to write the letter.

She sat at her table, writing her letter, and Draco said, "Why do you have cat food? I see a litter box in the corner as well."

"Marcus already told me about the cat, so I had him get me some things," Hermione said, not looking up from her letter.

"I seriously think I hate that man sometimes!" Draco said, sitting with her at the table. "Is he going to tell you when I plan to make love to you as well?"

"Only if you tell him first, I suppose," Hermione said, still not looking up.

"Humph!" Draco huffed.

"Do you have an owl? I want to send this right away," she said.

He took the letter from her and said, "I'll send it. I need to get some work done anyway, and I want to get the Professor's folder, as well as some other things I stole from the house."

"Stole? Aren't the things your property? Why would you have to steal things?"

"The damn Ministry has seized everything. I will get them back eventually, but while they're investigating, I'm banned from the place. Everyone is. They're still trying to figure out why the school collapsed," Draco explained. He leaned down, kissed the top of her head, and said, "I'll be back in a few hours. Have fun with Pippin while I'm gone, and get some rest. I'll see you later."

Draco left and she smiled. She already felt so comfortable with him. It was as if they belonged together, or had been together for a long time. It had been forever since she had felt that kind of comfort with a man. Even though she was going through a trying time right now, she honestly felt happier than she had felt for a very long time.

She bent back down, and picked up the kitten. She went over to the window, and watched the leaves falling from the trees. She wondered what it would be like to be back at Hogwarts, this time, with Draco as a friend, instead of a foe.

Two days later, she finally received a reply from Minerva. She told Hermione she had already heard about her loss (by now, everyone knew she had lost her magic), and that she would be more than happy to see her and Draco. Hermione contacted Draco, and they decided to leave right away. Draco stopped by her flat to collect her. He tried to apparate directly inside her flat, but found that he could not, so he knocked on the door.

"Just a moment," she said from inside. She opened the door a few seconds later, and said, "Okay, let's go." She tried to shut her door.

"What's the hurry?" he said. He held her door open.

"I just want to get an early start. Do you have the professor's things?" she asked.

"Are you trying to distract me? Because kissing would work better," he said.

"I'm not trying anything," she sighed.

"I want to tell Pippin goodbye," Draco said.

"No," Hermione said, pushing on Draco's chest.

"What's going on?" Draco pushed open her door the rest of the way. Ron Weasley was sitting on her couch, feet up on the coffee table, Draco's cat on his lap.

Draco grimaced; Hermione pulled on his arm, said, "'Bye, Ron," and shut her door.

"What's Weasley doing with my cat?" Draco asked, pointing toward the door.

"It's my cat, and he's cat sitting for me," Hermione stated.

Draco glared at her and asked, "The cat can't be alone one day?"

"Well…" she began.

"And why is he allowed to have his feet on your coffee table?" Draco asked.

"Don't be silly," Hermione said, dragging him by his arm down the stairs.

"How many other men have had their feet on your coffee table?" Draco asked.

Hermione winced and said, "That's right, I'm a scarlet woman, because I've had other men's feet on my coffee table. I swear." She hit his chest and dropped her bag. "Ron's in there because we are going to be gone a few days," she sprang on him.

"Why?" he said.

"Because, I thought we could make a little trip out of this, you know, a romantic get-a-way, but if you would rather come back tonight, we can do that, instead," she stammered. She actually blushed.

"I didn't pack," he said. He did not know what else to say.

"Marcus packed for you. I have your things in with mine. It was going to be a surprise," she finally told him.

All Draco could think was…overnight? "So, Marcus did get to find out we were having sex before I did." Draco grinned at her.

"We aren't going to have sex," Hermione said, blushing a deeper scarlet.

"We certainly are, or I'm not staying the night anywhere. I have a reputation to protect, you know," he said grabbing her hand. "Off to our 'romantic get-a-way'."


	17. Twenty Seven Minutes and Counting

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 17: Twenty-seven Minutes and Counting:**

Draco and Hermione sat in the office of the Headmistress of Hogwarts, waiting for her to return. They arrived earlier that day, and Hermione was very blunt. She told her about the professor, about what they suspected, and how she lost her magic. Then, she told her they needed to know how Hogwarts found out which Muggle children would someday be witches and wizards.

"Miss Granger, I'm not certain that information is pertinent to your on-going investigation," Professor McGonagall told her.

"I believe it is, for it might tell us how the Professor found out which children would be magical someday," Hermione said.

"I can assure you," the Headmistress began, "he would not have found out from us. This is not information we readily give out. In fact, it's a closely guarded secret, and only the current Headmaster or Headmistress, and their deputies are privy to this secret."

"Professor," Hermione began, "everyone knows it has something to do with a magic quill recording names. Just tell us where this quill is located, and how does the magic work."

"But my dear, that would be revealing everything to you, and I'm not at liberty to do so. It's my oath as Headmistress to protect that information, so therefore, believe me, Professor Dewey would not have been able to find out either, for each Head before me would have guarded the information just as dearly as I do. Now, I have some business to attend to, just for a moment, and I will be right back."

Therefore, they stood at an impasse. They knew no more than they did when they first sat down in her office. Hermione said, "This was a wasted trip."

Draco said, "No it's not, because we're having sex later," and he stood up and began to wander around the room. Several of the portraits told him to stop fingering things, as he kept picking things up and putting things down. Hermione stayed in her seat, feeling defeated. She closed her eyes for a moment. Draco came up behind her, and put his hands on her shoulders. He leaned down and whispered, "Don't worry, I'm a former Slytherin, don't you know. I'll find out that information for you."

"It doesn't matter," she said.

"Of course it matters," he answered. He tightened his hands on her shoulders. He leaned down again and kissed her cheek. Professor McGonagall took that moment to return.

"Excuse me," she said, entering her office.

Draco went back and sat down beside Hermione. The Headmistress handed Hermione a folder. "These are Dewey's records, from when he attended school here. You may take them with you, I know you will return them. I'm sorry about the other thing, but I've taken a wizard's oath, and I really can't tell you more."

"Just tell me this, how long has this method been used to inform Hogwarts of prospective wizards among Muggle-borns?" Hermione asked.

"Since the Founder's times," Minerva answered.

Hermione thought for a moment. "And you're certain that the information is kept completely safe. No one could find out that information?"

"Miss Granger, I will tell you this. You are correct that a magic quill writes all the names of prospective students: purebloods, half bloods, and Muggle-borns, from the time of their births. This information, sealed magically, is transcribed on a scroll, and the magic is such that only the current Head of Hogwarts can even open the seal, and read the names. Each year, a new scroll is made, and it cannot even be open for 11 years, meaning, only the scroll with the most current names can be open each year. These scrolls are hidden deep within this castle, and no one, and I mean this, no one can get to them. This professor must have come up with his own system. I'm so sorry I can't help you more, Hermione."

Hermione's all time favourite teacher smiled at the younger woman, and put her hand on her shoulder. Hermione smiled back and said, "Well, thank you for that. At least we know that the information was not obtained from the Hogwarts records. Thank you for the files as well. We'll return them when we can." Hermione stood to leave, meeting Draco at the door, since he had already stood a while ago. Hermione turned back and said, "Professor, do you have any of Nathaniel Dewey's books in the Hogwarts Library?"

"Of course not, Hermione. He was a pureblooded racist, who taught hatred and preached pureblood purity. We would never have any of his books here," she said.

"Not even any of his children's novels?" she asked.

Minerva looked at her strangely and said, "As far as I know, he never wrote any children's novels. Now, I have school business. It was nice to see you again, Hermione. Draco." Hermione knew they were being dismissed. She shook the older woman's hand, walked down the stone staircase, and left the office.

Draco turned to her in the hall and said, "Why did you ask her about the children's books? I thought we had agreed that those books were probably just written as a tool to remove the Muggle-born's magic. He probably only used them on his students at the school."

"I just wanted to make sure. I would hate to think that any of his books were here at Hogwarts," Hermione explained.

"Let's go to Hogsmeade, and get something to eat. I'm famished, I didn't have any breakfast," Draco declared.

"What is with men and their stomachs?" Hermione laughed. "You know, you shouldn't miss breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day."

"Hence the reason I want to eat," Draco stated. He took the professor's school file from her, and they walked down toward the main entrance.

Hermione looked at all the students passing by. She said, "Were we ever that young?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Draco grinned.

"Do you ever miss this place?" Hermione asked, as they left the building and started across the ground. Draco took her hand.

"Truthfully? No. I don't miss it at all," he answered. He was being truthful. He didn't miss a thing about it.

"I miss it all the time," Hermione said. "The best times of my life were spent inside these stone walls."

"Well, that's sad," Draco said.

Hermione stopped walking, which forced him to stop as well. "Why is that sad?"

"Because, Hermione," Draco reasoned, "the best times of your life shouldn't be during your school years, especially 'your' school years, considering all the bad things that happened to you and your little boyfriends, like the threat of Voldemort, the near death experiences, etc. You're daft." He started walking again and she carefully considered what he said.

She stopped again, and he had to stop as well. "What now?" he asked.

"Do you think I'm sad?" she asked.

"Sad?" he asked back, not understanding.

"I mean, do you think it's sad that the best time of my life was during school. I mean, you're right, I went through many trials and tribulation my six years here, and there were more bad times than good, and yet, if someone would ask me, I would say I miss it here, and that it was the best time of my life." Hermione let go of Draco's hand. "Goodness, Malfoy that is sad. That is terribly sad. Not only do I define my whole life around my magic, but also I define the best part of my life around my magical education. I'm as sad and empty as Agnes Abernathy."

Draco was shocked she would say such a thing. "Again, you're being overly dramatic. Your life isn't as sad as that poor woman's life, so don't even try to compare the two, for that's preposterous, and I'm ashamed of you. Furthermore, I have a funny feeling the best part of your life is yet to come."

"You think?" she asked, now ashamed that she was feeling so sorry for herself.

"Of course, because I'm part of your life now," he said so matter of fact. She laughed.

"Oh, Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy, if nothing else, at least you make me laugh," she said. She took his hand again, and they walked all the way to the village.

At Hogsmeade, they decided to check into their rooms first (and the plural 'rooms' was much to Draco's chagrin), and then they went directly to The Three Broomsticks for lunch since it was well after one o'clock.

They started eating their meal and Hermione said, "I've never been here with you before."

"Yes you have," he said back.

"I would have remembered that, Draco." She took a drink of her pumpkin juice.

Draco explained, "We've never been here together, per se, but we've been here at the same time."

"I don't even recall that," she said, frowning, trying to remember.

"I'm sure there's a lot you don't recall," Draco surmised.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked irritated, scooting her empty plate away from her.

"I just mean in regards to me and Hogwarts." Draco pushed his plate away as well.

"I recall you were a first class wanker, and a pureblood bully," Hermione pointed out. She smiled, "Good thing you've changed.

"I'm still a wanker," he laughed.

"True," she agreed.

"Actually, I'm still pureblood, and most people would say I'm still a bully," he regaled. Hermione nodded in agreement. "I recall you were a bookworm, know-it-all, who never went anywhere without her two little 'boy toys' in tow," Draco said.

"You always had your two little boy toys in tow as well," she said, mocking him. "Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy. It was as if you three were joined at the hips."

He decided to ignore her little memory. "I recall you were bossy, and a teacher's wet dream," Draco said, crassly.

"You loved to torment people," she said.

"You had bushy hair, and great big buck teeth," he said.

"Only the first couple of years. You, on the other hand, were always handsome," she said truthfully.

"I know," he laughed. "And truthfully, you're right, from year three on, you were very pretty. Everyone thought so, even most of the Slytherins, though we still detested you, on principle, of course."

"Of course, as we hated you," she agreed.

"I would have loved to have gotten you alone back in the day," he said out of nowhere, "without Potter and little red Weasley-hood."

"And do what with me?" she asked amused. "Torture me? Put me in shackles?"

"Those are my plans tonight," he joked. "No, in school, I would have liked to have caught you alone, at least once. Maybe I would have been decent to you. Maybe I would have even tried to steal a kiss. Perhaps one of those celebrated goodnight kisses that we've been talking about for weeks."

"Right," she said, incredulously.

"You never know," he answered back.

"Okay, let's role play, pretend I'm seventeen year old Muggle-born Hermione Granger, in The Three Broomsticks, by herself, reading a book, and you come in, by yourself, no one is around. Show me what you would have done." She took a book out of her satchel, and began to read.

He stayed in his seat and said, "Why did you bring a book to our 'romantic-get-away'?"

She shrugged.

He continued, "Because in my fantasies, I mean, scenarios, you never had a book." He shook his head in disbelief, and said aloud, to himself, "I can't believe she brought a book." He went up to order a butterbeer. He sauntered back over, bumped her chair and said, "Watch where you're going, Mudblood."

She glared at him, and thought, 'fine, he's just in character' and said, "Maybe you should watch where you're going, Malfoy. I know it's hard to see with your nose so far up in the air, but do try not to run into anyone else. You might break a nail."

He sat down at a table next to hers, and leaned down in his chair, propping his feet up on her table. She looked up from her book again, and promptly pushed his feet off her table with her arm. He stood up, and sat down in his previously abandoned seat. "So, Granger, where is Weaselbee and Scarhead?"

"Not that it's any of your concern, but they're at Quidditch practice." That was the first thing that popped in her mind. She was having fun, being in character as well. "Where are your little Slytherin goons? Did evolution finally catch up with them, and they have finally figured out how to walk upright?"

"You're a barrel of laughs, Mudblood," Draco said. He banged his butterbeer down hard on the table, sloshing liquid everywhere. "Know your place, Granger, and clean up this mess won't you. After all, you're just one step above your precious little house elves."

Hermione glared at him, actually angry, but he had a strange twinkle in his eye, so she would let it pass. She ignored him and he continued, "Are you reading a book about beauty charms, because I have to tell you, I don't think it will help you."

She threw her book back in her satchel and said, "What is your problem? Go bother someone else before I hex your arse all the way back to school." As soon as she said it, she thought, 'I almost wish I really could hex the prat'. She took out her wand, even though it was useless to her, she kept it on her at all times, pointed it at him and said, "Leave, Blondie."

"Going to hex me, Granger?" he asked. He pulled his chair closer to hers, and took a hold of her wand. "I'd like to see you try," he said, knowing he might hurt her feelings with that statement, he recovered quickly by saying, "I know you're a whiz at spells, but believe me, I would hex you so much quicker than you would hex me."

"Not likely, Malfoy." She decided to put her wand away, and open her book back up. She pointed behind her body, saying, "Go pollute the air over there, please." She was no longer having fun. This was causing too many unpleasant memories.

As if realizing her current discomfort, he decided to end the charade, the way he would have liked to end it, if he had the balls back in school, when he was a kid. He took her book from her and placed it softly down on the other end of the table. She looked up at him.

"Give me my book," she said, holding out her hand. He shook his head no. She nodded her head yes. He took her outstretched hand in his, and pulled it to his face. He examined it closely. Holding it in one hand, he took the index finger of the other hand, and drew little circles on her palm. She now said, "Give me back my hand."

"I don't want to," he said. He kissed her open hand. She considered things for a moment. She wasn't so sure the 17-year-old Malfoy would have done what he had just done, but she no longer cared. She stood up, with her hand still captive, and he finally looked up at her.

She walked up to him, and sat on his lap. He raised his eyebrows, suggestively. He let go of her hand, and she placed her hands on his face, framing it softly in her grasp. She leaned in and kissed his lips. "Good thing we're no longer kids," she said.

"And why is that?" he asked.

"If we were kids, I couldn't suggest that you meet me in my room in a half an hour. Oh, and bring some wine, won't you?" She stood up, picked up her book and her satchel, and walked out the door of the pub, not looking back once.

"Hot damn," Draco said, with a large smile. "Well, I feel as horny as a seventeen year old, that's for sure." He threw some money on the table, and left the pub, smiling, looking at his watch. He could wait a half an hour, if waiting meant he would soon have her all to himself. He walked over to the inn, following closely behind her, and sat down in the lobby. He looked back at his watch. Twenty-seven minutes and counting.


	18. A Rapid Pulse and Words of Love

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 18: A Rapid Pulse, and Words of Love:**

Why was Draco nervous? It didn't make any sense to him. He'd had sex before, many, many times. This was just one more score in his tally book, one more notch on his headboard. This was one of his many conquests. Only, it wasn't.

It was more, so much more. He couldn't explain it if he tried, and he couldn't articulate his feelings even if they were scripted and delivered to him directly. It was Hermione, and he was actually beginning to care for her. It almost hurt to admit as much, but he might be falling for her. He would not utter the 'L' word, for that was too blasé. Too ordinary. He wouldn't even admit that to himself. He had never told a woman he loved them, and he wouldn't start with her.

He knocked on her door, with one minute to spare, bottle of wine in the hand he use to knock, two wine flutes in the other. She opened the door. She had on the same clothes she had on earlier. What was he expecting, a black teddy? A red negligee? He almost laughed. "Hi, Granger," he said.

Hi Granger? He said, 'Hi, Granger'. Please, hex him now, for he was more than embarrassed. Hi, Granger.

"Hi, Malfoy," she answered. Well, she was as big of an idiot as he was, he thought. Good.

"Wine?" he asked.

"No, thanks," she said. She sat on the edge of the bed.

"You told me to bring some wine," he said, confused.

"Oh, I just thought that sounded sexy." She smiled. "You can have some if you'd like."

He popped the cork, and drank right from the bottle. This promised to be a daunting night, of that he was sure.

She was swinging her legs back and forth, looking at the carpet. He put the wine bottle down next to the glasses, on the desk, and walked over to her.

"Nice room," he said.

"I would say thanks, but really I had nothing to do with the décor," she said.

"And I don't really care," he said. Suddenly, he was in a bad mood. What to do, what to do? He sat next to her. She stood up. Okay. He said, "Have you changed your mind?"

"No," she said. She moved over to the window, and shut the curtains.

"Afraid an owl might see us?" he asked, amused.

"No," she said. She took off her jumper, and sat on the loveseat between the two windows.

"Are you going to keep the other curtain open?" he asked, pointing to the other window. "It is the middle of the day."

"Oh, right." She stood up, and shut that curtain. She took off her shoes. They were making progress. He removed his jumper and shoes. He started to unbutton his oxford, but realized she had stopped undressing. He didn't want to get further ahead than her. He wanted to give her time to catch up.

He said, "Come here, Hermione."

"Why?" she asked, not looking at him.

"Please tell me you aren't a virgin or something worse," he said.

She giggled, looked up at him, and said, "I'm not a virgin, but describe something worse, and I'll be more inclined to answer that part of your question." She stood from the loveseat, but didn't approach him.

"Are you frigid?" he asked, eyeing her carefully. He was joking. He didn't have a 'much worse' in his mindset.

She laughed again. "Are you?" she asked.

"Of course not," he boasted.

"Well neither am I," she said. "I'm nervous, though." He could tell. He could not make fun, for he was as well.

"Why are you nervous?" he asked. He stood up to walk over to where she stood.

"Because, I really like you, and this is a big step in our relationship, and I want it to go well, and I want you to enjoy yourself," she admitted. "I want the first time we make love to be special."

"You worry about all the wrong things," he said, with a small laugh.

"What shall I worry about?" she asked timidly.

He brushed her hair over her shoulder and said, "Do you have bad breath?"

"I don't think so," she said, her eyes opened wide. "Check and see." She put her face next to him, and breathed lightly.

"Breath is fine. So, do you have body odor?" he asked.

"You're so romantic," she joked. She lifted her arm, and smelled. "That checks out as well. Any more personal hygiene questions? Do you have a check off sheet, which would be easier?"

He put his arms around her, "No, those are the top two." He nuzzled his nose on her neck. "You smell divine," he said, unabashed.

"Glad you approve," she said with a laugh.

He kissed her neck. He brought his face back to look at hers. "There's nothing to worry about, because this is going to be great, and we are both going to enjoy ourselves. I really like you, too."

"That's a plus, when two people are about to make love," she said.

"You keep calling it 'making love'," he pointed out.

"Having sex, than," she said. Her mood shifted. She stiffened.

"No, I think the phrase, 'making love', is more apropos. Don't you agree?" he quizzed. "Wait, don't answer. I already know you do." He kissed her jaw line, to her chin. He lingered at the corner of her mouth. He brought his hand up, and traced her lips, not just once, but twice. "When I'm with you, my resolve melts away, and I have no cohesive thoughts. Why is that?" He asked that question aloud, but already felt sure he had the answer. When she said nothing else, he said, "You're beautiful." He said it without hesitation. He knew it was true.

"You're biased," she said back.

"Perhaps, but you are still beautiful," he said. He merely looked at her. His arms were around her, but that was the extent of his touching her.

"You are already going to get lucky today, you don't have to give me false adulation and exaltations," she said. She seemed sincere.

"False? Stupid girl." He leaned in to kiss her again, this time he aimed for her mouth. He kissed her lips, building the pressure, bringing his tongue out, then putting it back in, and then back out. He would kiss her, and then taste her lips with his tongue. She parted her lips naturally, under his force, and his tongue went in completely, seeking hers. He licked around her lips, and then kissed her harder.

"I love you," he suddenly said. As soon as he said it, he was shocked. He hadn't meant to say it. He didn't even know he loved her. It just came out. He looked at her, shocked, and she pushed against his chest, shocked as well.

"What?" she asked sharply. She asked again, in case he didn't hear her the first time, "What?"

"I didn't, I mean, I don't, well, I mean, I didn't mean to say that," he finally said.

"You didn't mean to say that because it's not true, or you just didn't mean to tell me yet, or you didn't even know you were going to say it?" she asked. She took a deep breath and added, "I don't care what your answer is, because it won't change what I'm going to say…" he put his index finger on her lips.

"Please, don't say anymore," he said.

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"Don't just say it because I did, no matter the reason I said it," he whispered.

"What if I want to say it, what if it's the truth, what if I would have said in anyway, even if you hadn't?" she stammered.

"A lot of questions there, Granger," he said, "At least you gave me a multiple choice."

She put her head on his chest and said, "Suddenly, my world is alive. My soul is on fire. Are you the cause of that?"

"Is that a real question?" he asked. How did she know that he felt the exact same way?

"Never mind," she said. She took his hand and led him to the bed. She sat down on the end again, the backside of her legs touching the backside of the foot railing.

"Hermione, would you have made love to me, that night, after our second date?" For some reason, he really needed to know.

"I believe I would have." She reached up and touched his face.

"I would have, also. I want you so much. As for the other feelings I have been experiencing lately, they're foreign and not completely welcomed. I understand want and desire. Those are easily recognizable, the other emotions, well, I can't decipher their meaning," he reasoned.

Hermione said, "I'm just going to throw this out, whether it makes it more difficult for you, or simpler, I don't know and I don't care. I'm falling for you. I hope that doesn't cause problems for you, and I hope your declaration to me a moment ago, is indeed how you feel." She finally brought her hand down from his face. He put his hands on her shoulders, and leaned her down to lay on the top of the bed.

"It makes it refreshing, that's what it makes it," he said truthfully. He lay down beside her, his hand on her neck. Her pulse was going a mile a minute, it was so rapid. He took her hand, and put it on his neck. "See, my pulse is all over the place, just like yours."

He stared at her, not able to take his eyes from her. She looked so beautiful, and he was sure that what he felt for her was more than 'like', but until he was one hundred percent sure, he was not apt to slip up again, and tell her he loved her. He kissed her mouth, soft, warm, and incredibly inviting. He kissed her hard and demanding. He wanted her so much that he was on fire.

He stopped kissing her to stare at her for a moment. "Why did you stop?" she asked.

"I want to make sure you're real," he said. She shifted so she was facing him. The sudden movement startled him for some reason. It caught him off guard. He turned to face her as well, and while neither was touching, only staring, they leaned toward each other at the same time. Her smile was mischievous, his was devious, and he thought they made quite a team.

Unable to hold off his passion any longer, for his thirst and hunger for her was monumental; he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her on her back. He kissed her so hard, he was sure he might have hurt her. He palmed one of her breast, marveling how it fit his hand perfectly. He wondered if the rest of them would fit together as perfectly. He continued kissing her neck, hand on the outside of her blouse, pinching her nipple, and she instinctively clenched her legs together. That action didn't go unnoticed by Draco.

She started to unbutton her shirt. He leaned over her, and hit her hands away. He wanted to unbutton it. He started at the bottom, and began to unbutton her blouse. She started to unbutton his shirt. He hit her hands away again. "Can't I help?" she said. She was serious. Draco shook his head no, and kissed her again. He sat back up and unbuttoned another button from her blouse. Another one. Another one. She had three left. He unbuttoned the button over her breasts. Then he deftly unbuttoned the last two. Her shirt remained covering her. He moved his hand slowly down the front of her, touching the thin line of exposed flesh with his fingertips. When he reached the bottom, he moved the material aside, first one side, and then the other. She had on a pretty, lace bra. He put his fingers underneath the top material of her bra, fingering the lace. He leaned down and kissed her chest.

Hermione wiggled out of her blouse. She sat up, he put a finger under her bra strap, and eased it down her arm. He scooted to the side of the bed, and stood up. She sat back up, but stayed on the bed. He pulled down the other bra strap. Her bra moved down slightly, still covering her nipples, but exposing the ample bosom. He tore his own shirt off, and removed his slacks. Still standing before her, she reached around and unclasped her bra. He was in awe. The sight of her before him amazed him. She threw her bra on the floor. He took a step back, and she used the space to stand.

She looked down, and unbuttoned her pants. She slipped them down her hips, and off her legs. They stood before each other, in only their skivvies, and at the same time, they reached for the other. She put her hand on his neck, moving it across the muscles of his chest, across his shoulder, down his bicep. He put his hand on her shoulder, and moved it lightly down her arm. He put each hand on her face, rubbing his thumbs back and forth before leaning in to kiss her again. She stood on her toes, so he wouldn't have to bend. Her hard nipples pressed against his chest, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. One hand went down, grabbed a cheek of her bum, and squeezed it tightly.

He backed her back toward the bed, and she toppled over with a laugh. He put one knee beside her, and leaned over with one hand roaming her breasts. He stroked the outside with his knuckles, rounding it with his fingertips. He sat beside her, and finally put his mouth on one breast. Kissing one, and then the other, her nipples became hard pebbles, which he promptly placed in his mouth.

He was so hard for her he was in pain.

He licked her nipple, back and forth, raising his head to look at it, hard, swollen, and dark pink. He played with the other one, so it wouldn't feel left out. He finally lay beside her, and continued kissing her chest, neck, and breasts. His hand traveled down her body, feeling the gooseflesh, and delighting in her little 'ohs' and 'ahs'. Her skin, glistening with sweat and his saliva, tingled and glowed. He again felt as if he was on fire. He wanted her to put out his flame.

His right hand rested on her hip, and he spoke, "Why do you still have your knickers on, Hermione?"

"It hadn't occurred to me to remove them. Perhaps you would do the honours," she said with a wicked gleam.

"My pleasure," he said with a deep voice. He sat upright again, and put his hands on her hips. He moved the silk panties down slowly, taking the full service tour. He was concentrating intently, and breathing heavily. She was trembling, and her breathing was ragged. He removed his own underwear, and leaned over her to kiss her hip. He kissed across her stomach, watching it spasm with excitement. She was clutching tightly at his shoulders, her fingertips leaving indentations.

He lay across her left leg, and bent her right leg at the knee. He kissed the inside of her thigh, to her knee. He let go of her leg, and took a deep breath, to try to keep from moving too fast. He rested his head on her lower abdomen, holding her waist. "I do love you." He had to say it, because he meant it. He placed his body on the lower half of the bed, between her legs. He had to taste her. Surely, no one on earth would taste as sweet as she. He moved his mouth from one hip, back over to the other, placing his hand between her open legs. His thumb applied pressure, and she squirmed. He placed his mouth at her zenith, and she sighed loudly.

Hermione's hands were in his hair. Pushing her legs open wider, he continued his descent, until he found what he was looking for, his reward.

She gasped. "Oh my," she actually said. He stopped to look back at her face.

"Shall I continue?" he managed to say.

"Please, don't stop," she pleaded. He smiled. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He continued until she almost peaked. He had to stop.

He moved back up to her face, whispering in her mouth, "Do you really want me to continue?" He kissed her again, a hard assault. He put his hand back to her juncture; her hand went down to stroke him, pulling him, as her thumb went over his tip. He threw his head back, took a deep breath, and said, "You're going to kill me."

"I hope it's not a painful death," she said.

"Very painful," he said. He couldn't help it, he moved to his back, closed his eyes, and gave into the pleasure she offered. She leaned over him, and continued with both hands on him. She knew he was close. He finally reached down, took a hold of her wrists, and said, "Stop."

Without formal consent, he pushed her to her back, rather roughly, crawled on top of her, and entered her slowly, a bit at a time. He winced and grimaced, as she moaned slightly. He pushed the rest of the way in, quickly, and found the perfect rhythm, as he moved his body up and down hers; his upper body hovered over hers by his strong arms.

Her hands went from his shoulders, to his neck, pulling his face down. He obliged and kissed her again. He put his face between her shoulder and neck, and as he started to come, he bit her shoulder, rather hard. She brought one hand up to her mouth, to stifle her scream. He grunted a few more times, as she began to say, "Yes." They moved together, and he came before her, but held on, though it was torture, until she started to climax.

"HERMIONE!" He yelled her name, not coherent of the act. He collapsed on top of her, but rolled off as soon as he was able. He rolled her over to him, and she was still making little cooing noises. Her body was still shuddering. He reached down, pulled up the cover, and stroked her back with the arm underneath her, and her face with the arm on top.

After a moment of bliss, and the eventually meltdown, he kissed the top of her head.

"You said you loved me," she said softly.

"It must be true," he said.

She looked at him and said, "Are you sure it wasn't just because we were in the middle of things?"

He laughed. "The middle of things? Explain."

"Don't make me, you know what I mean. The throes of passion." She grinned, pressing her face against his chest. She played lightly with one of his nipples.

"I mean everything I say while having sex. Always have. Each grunt and groan is the utter truth," he joked. She looked up again. He added, "Hermione, if I said I love you, and I know I said it, because I remember saying it, then I meant it. You don't have to respond in kind." She frowned and placed her head back on his chest.

"Maybe I want to respond in kind," she mumbled.

"You don't have to pout about it. If you love me in return, just say it," he said, seriously.

"Well, I do," she said, still not looking at him.

"Well, that makes me happy," he said back. It did. He was bursting inside. Hermione Granger loved him.

She fell asleep. He was too keyed up to sleep. He crawled out of bed, making sure to cover her back up. He pulled his pants on and decided to look over some of the information Christine Wilton gave them.

He was looking through the contents of the box for almost two hours, when Hermione woke up. She stayed in the bed, and watched him for the longest time. Finally, she said, "What are you doing?"

"What was that other name you saw on the chalkboard?" he asked.

"Derek Grayson, why?" she asked.

"And Christine said her aunt had been in a coma since age eleven, right?" he asked. Hermione scrambled from the bed, put on his shirt, (he had on his pants), and walked over to him.

"Well yes, but remember, she woke up once when she was about sixteen," Hermione reminded. "Why are you asking this?"

"I'm just confused. There's a notation in the diary of Christine's mother. It says that her sister woke up from her coma, for almost six months, when she was sixteen years old, but it said it happened after a visit from her childhood friend, Derek Grayson."


	19. Food and Alleyways

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 19: Food and Alleyways**:

Hermione and Draco wasted no time going through the boxes, journals, and files. There was no reason to wait until they got back to London, even though there was nothing more they could gain from Hogwarts. After all, this was their romantic weekend. Draco looked at the piles of parchments surrounding them, and laughed at that thought. Romantic weekend? It was the weekend, but romantic? Not yet. Nothing changed between them since they made love. Actually, Draco was glad. He liked how things were.

Hermione still had on Draco's shirt. She had slipped on her knickers and socks, and Draco thought she had never looked more alluring. He lit a fire in her fireplace, and moved his bags to her room. His room was larger, and Hermione asked him if he was ashamed of it, and he didn't understand her humour, but he told her he liked her smaller room better. It reminded him of her.

Hermione was reading Agnes' diary, when she said, "Draco, here she mentions Derek for the first time. She was around nine years old. She had been going to The Dewey Institute for two years, and young Derek started going there as well. She became his best friend."

Draco was going through the Ministry records. "Derek was one of the witnesses at the Professor's trial. Do you think that means he never lost his magic?"

"I really don't know what to think," Hermione said. "Where is Agnes' sister's journal again?" He pointed to a pile on the floor. She crawled across the floor, and turned to the part when Agnes had woken back up, when she was sixteen.

"Draco, this is so sad. Her sister Abigail was so elated that Agnes woke up. She thought the nightmare was over, when really, it was still only beginning. She wrote here that Derek came one day to see her, after she had been in the coma for almost five years, and the next day she woke. The next six months he came to see her almost everyday. Abigail writes that Derek and Agnes were in love."

Draco looked up and said, "Derek had to still be a wizard, for him to testify at the trial. It was mostly his testimony that got the old bastard arrested, which makes sense, because all of the other witnesses wouldn't have remembered anything."

Hermione crawled back over to Draco. "But, the professor was arrest in 1947. Agnes would have been too young; she wouldn't have been in her coma yet."

"You're wrong," Draco said. He opened Abigail's journal. "Abigail writes that she just had her 64th birthday when she found out she had cancer. Christine said her mum was five years older than Agnes was. Therefore, Abigail died last year, age 64, making Agnes 59 at the time, 60 now. She would have been eleven years old in 1947. The timeline is right."

"She's sixty? But, she looks so much younger than sixty!" Hermione exclaimed. "How old was Derek when he testified? Do the court records say?" Hermione asked, as she leaned over his shoulder, her hand on his thigh. He looked down at her hand; he liked how comfortable they were with each other. He opened the file back up to the court documents.

"He was only twelve." Draco closed the file. "He would be 61. If he's a wizard, we should be able to locate him if he's still alive. I searched for him in the Muggle world, that's probably why I didn't find him, or he could be dead."

Hermione wasn't paying attention. She was looking through the box of photos, the one from the Dewey house. Draco was able to sneak them out of the house without the Ministry's notice. She pulled out the picture of the pretty blond girl, the one Draco admired that day. "Look, Draco, this is Agnes." He took the picture from her. He put that photo down, and began to comb through the pictures Christina provided.

"Here's a picture of her that Christina gave us, and the back says age ten, with a boy about her age. Does he look like any of the faces from that box?" Draco asked.

Hermione rifled through the box. She held up a stack of pictures. She handed the pile of pictures, wrapped in a rubber band, to Draco. "Do you think this looks like the same boy? Do you think it's Derek?"

"It might be. I think we need to sneak back in the Ministry, and look through birth records, and see if we can find him, but it can wait until we get back to London," Draco decided. He handed the photos back to her, and then he stood up and stretched. He reached down his hand for her, which she accepted.

"Thank you, for helping me," she said humbly, as he pulled her up. "I have to get my magic back. It's more important to me than almost anything."

"More important than me?" he asked, with a shy smile.

If she were to answer honestly, she didn't know what she would say. She said, "Truthfully, I don't know." She didn't want to hurt his feelings. She didn't appear to have, as his expression didn't change. She felt she needed to explain, "I just want my magic and you, is that wrong?"

"Terribly wrong and selfish, too," Draco said.

"You think?" Hermione asked.

"Not really, I just said that. It's okay to want your magic back, and I know you'll never really ever have to pick me over your magic, so don't worry," Draco said, holding her in his arms.

With her head on his chest, she said, "If I was forced to make a choice, you or my magic, I would choice you." She was sure she meant it.

"Good," he said. He pulled away from her and said, "I'm hungry."

She hit his arm and said, "My goodness, seriously, all you ever want to do is eat. I'm shocked you aren't a fat tub of lard."

"Granger, let me explain the male psyche to you. First, we want sex as much as we want food. Second, we need sex, but the truth is we may need food more. I am in danger of fainting from starvation. We ate at one pm, and its six now. It's normal to want to eat five hours after the last time you ate," he defended his cause.

"It's 6:00 pm!" Hermione was shocked. "Where did the day go?"

"Seriously, I thought we would have had sex five or six times by now, and here we've had sex once. That hardly seems fair," Draco chivied. "Detective work takes a long time, doesn't it?"

"You let me get a bath, and you go back to your room and shower, and we'll go somewhere for dinner, okay?" Hermione said, leaning against him, standing on her tiptoes, and kissing his cheek.

"I could wash your back," he suggested. He was perfectly serious.

"Go." She pointed toward the door.

"I could wash your front," he teased. She pushed him toward the door. "My bag is in here," he reasoned. She picked it up, threw it in the hall, and pushed him out as well. She turned around and headed toward her bathroom.

Draco was showered and changed much faster than Hermione. He let himself back in her room (it was a simple enough spell), and he sat and waited for her on the bed. He bent down and picked up Agnes' journal. He went to the end. When she woke back up, after five years of sleeping, she wrote that she lost more than time. She seemed to have lost her memories as well.

Draco read:

* * *

_That nice boy, Derek came to visit me again. I wish I could remember him. He said we went to school together. I don't remember anything. I remember my mum, my dad, and my sister, but even they seem different. It's strange to be told you are sixteen years old, but to remember nothing of the last nine years. My mum said I've been sleeping for five years, so I understand not remember any of that, but why can't I remember ages 7 to 11? I remember my first day at my new school, and after that, nothing._

_I look in the mirror, and I don't even know who I am. I look a lot like my sister. Derek told me I was pretty. I think he is pretty, too. Well, my mum is calling me. I'll write more later._

* * *

Draco shut the diary. How strange. She had written in her journal, almost everyday, from age seven to eleven, yet when she woke up from her coma, she remembered nothing from age seven to sixteen. Draco really needed to talk to Derek Grayson. He hoped for Hermione's sake that he was still alive.

Hermione came out of the bathroom, and did not seem surprised that Draco was there. She smiled at him and said, "Give me a couple of more minutes." She had on a pretty dress, and her hair was up. She grabbed her purse, and headed back to the bathroom. He opened the diary, and used his wand to remove the writing from the page he just read. It would reappear eventually. For some reason, he didn't want Hermione to read it.

She came back out, all smiles again, and said, "So, what's on the agenda? The Three Broomsticks again, the Hogshead? What?"

"I think I can do better than that," Draco said. He took her hand and he said, "Hold on tight, while I apparate."

They appeared in a private room, draped in heavy green drapes, with a single table, candles, and wine chilling in a wine bucket. "Where are we?" she asked.

"It's a surprise," he said, winking at her.

He pulled out her seat, and sat across from her. An elf brought them some cheese.

"Seriously, where are we?" she asked.

"Don't worry about that, just have a good time," he said. He poured her some wine.

"I can't have a good time if I don't know where we are," she pointed out.

"Live life on the edge for once, Hermione," Draco said. He started to eat.

She looked around and said, "Are we still in Hogsmeade?"

"Granger, eat," he snapped, perturbed at her questions.

She stood up, moved one of the heavy drapes to the side, which revealed a paneled wall. "Are we still at the inn?" she asked. He stood up, took her arm, apparated her back to her room, and left her there, all alone.

"That was rude," she said. She sat on the bed, bounced her foot up and down, and waited for him to come back for her. She waited for ten minutes, and then she stood up, grabbed her purse and jacket, and went down to The Three Broomsticks, to get something to eat. He should have come back for her, she thought. No, actually, he should have just answered her questions. They were normal questions. He knew she didn't have her magic, so he really was being very bad-mannered, abandoning her as he did.

She sat at a booth, by herself, and ordered some food. She put her head in her hand, and looked out the window. Fall was upon them. It was getting darker earlier, and there was a definite nip in the air. She felt a presence beside her. She thought it was he, so she didn't turn around.

"May I join you?" A voice said.

She turned around. It was a man she had never seen before.

"Actually, I'm waiting for my boyfriend," Hermione said.

"But you already ordered your food," the dark haired man said.

"I know, but, well, he's coming any moment," she explained.

He sat in the booth across from her, and said, "Why don't I keep you company until he arrives. My name is James." He didn't give her a last name. He held out his hand.

He was a very good-looking man, probably ten years older than she was. She shook his hand and said, "I'm Hermione Granger."

"I know who you are," he said cryptically. Hermione was used to people knowing her name, but something about the way he said it, she didn't like.

She started to stand up and said, "Perhaps I'll go see what's taking him so long."

He put his hand on her arm, and held tight. "Please, your food is coming." The server put Hermione's plate down, and Hermione looked up, longingly. She looked back at the stranger, who still had her arm. How she wished for her magic now.

"Please, let go of my arm," she said.

"Why? You can't exactly curse me, can you? I hear you lost your magic," he said. He took a drink of her butterbeer and put it back down.

"Who the hell are you?" Hermione asked, true fear in her countenance.

"I'm a friend, here to give you a warning. Leave it all alone. Don't bother looking for answers. The school collapsing was just the start of things. If you continue to pursue the work of the professor, much worse things will come your way," he said. He leaned back and let go of her arm.

She started to get up from the booth, but he moved quicker, and sat beside her, forcing her to sit back down. She looked around at the crowd in the restaurant. If she screamed, would anyone come to her aid? She felt his wand in her ribs.

"Okay, you delivered your message, now leave me alone," Hermione said bravely.

The man put his wand back in his pocket, and said, "You are a pretty little Mudblood, aren't you. It seems the tainted blood witches are always the prettiest. I wonder why that is? Of course, you're not a witch any longer. You are nothing but a Muggle now."

She felt genuine fear. Her whole life, she always had her magic to back her up. Now, she had nothing. "Leave me alone," she said.

"I don't want to." He stood up, took out his wand again, but lowered it so only she could see. He took her arm, and stood her up. He led her outside, and around the back of the building. Her legs went willingly, even though her mind was screaming for her to do something, kick him, hit him, something, anything, wizard be damn. The wand pointed at her changed her mind.

"I will be watching you," he said, as he pressed her up against the brick wall. His body was long and hard against hers. She was silently wishing for Draco to appear. "You leave all of this alone. If you think what happened to Agnes Abernathy was sad, wait and see what will happen to you if you keep pushing this." He put his hand under her chin, and grabbed it hard. "Harry Potter's bravery won't be able to save you. Draco Malfoy's money won't be able to save you. You got what you deserved, Mudblood, now leave it well enough alone." He let go of her, and started to walk away.

She could n't help herself, she said, "Let's see how brave you are without your wand."

He turned back toward her, and slapped her hard across the face. She stumbled and cried out. "See, I don't need my magic either," he said. He left her on her knees in the alley. Hermione heard Draco calling for her. She was too ashamed to answer. She stayed on her knees, crouched down in the alleyway, and hid her head.

"Hermione? Where are you?" Draco sounded angry.

He started to walk past the alley, barely taking a moment to look down the dark passageway, when he saw her. He ran to her, and put his hand on her back. "What's wrong? Did you fall?"

She looked up. Blood was coming from her nose. "Hermione!" Draco said in shock. He stood her up and embraced her. "What happened to you? Where did you go? I went back to your room, and you were gone. They told me in The Three Broomsticks that you left with a strange man. What happened?"

She had yet to cry, she was in shock. She just stood there, motionless, not saying a word. He took out his handkerchief, and wiped the blood from her nose. She put her head on his shoulder, lightly, barely touching him, her arms down at her side. He put his arms tight around her. He apparated them back to her room.

She told him everything that happened. He blamed himself. He had taken her to his room for a romantic dinner, and all he wanted was for it to be quixotic, and for her to live life precariously for once, but all her questions angered him, and so he apparated her back to her room. He only meant to leave her there until he calmed down, but he began to eat, and he thought he would leave her alone for a while, to think about things. He even thought, 'let her starve'. He never in a million years thought something like this would happen. Draco hated his selfishness, for the first time in his entire life.

"Who could he be, Draco?" Hermione asked. Her question brought him out of his thoughts. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and Draco sat beside her.

"I don't know, but if I ever see the man, I'll probably kill him." He said it with such an even tone, with no malice, or anger, but true intent. She was glad. She would be tempted to kill him as well.

"It was someone who knew I lost my magic, someone who knew about the school, and he knew the name, Agnes Abernathy." Hermione ticked the following things off in her head. "He must work for the Ministry. No one else would know about Agnes. I only told a few people about the names on the chalkboard, you, my friends, and the Aurors."

"Let's not worry about it, not right now," Draco said, putting his arm around her shoulder. "Are you still hungry?"

She sighed. "Draco, I can't possibly eat right now. Why, are you still hungry?"

He was, but he said, "No, not really. I just want to do whatever you want. If you just want to stay in your room, and cuddle, or talk, or something, that's fine with me."

"Okay, let's go eat, I know you're lying, and I know you're really hungry, because you aren't even acting like yourself," she said, standing.

"How am I acting?" Draco asked, standing beside her.

"Sweet, thoughtful, and kind, and it's creeping me out," she said.

"As much as the thought of kissing Gregory Goyle?" he asked, reminding her of her 'creep out' lesson that day on the front porch of the house.

"That was your creepy out factor. Mine is a saccharine, kind, sweet, engaging Draco Malfoy." She shivered. "Give me my arrogant, conceited, smug, haughty, egotistical rogue back!"

"I am always engaging," he said, taking offense at only that one thing. "I'll bring our dinner from my room here. Wait for me."

"We were in your room before?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"My goodness, Malfoy, all you had to do was say that in the beginning, and you would have saved us both trouble and pain," she said. She said it to be funny, but realized there was truth to the statement, so she decided to take ownership of the situation. "But, I'll take the blame. I was being overbearing, and I should have just sat back and enjoyed our dinner, and put some trust in you. I'm sorry."

He regarded her with narrow eyes. Was she really saying she was sorry? Did she really think the fact that she was almost accosted by a total stranger her fault? Everything about this sordid affair, from the book (which she would not have even picked up, if he was not off pouting in the nursery), to the incident in the alley, and everything in between, was completely his fault. "The blame lays at my feet, Granger, not yours, so stop being so sweet and noble, and just hate me or something." He was serious.

"It's too late, Malfoy, I already said I love you, so I can't just change it all now," she said sincerely. "I will probably love you forever."

That statement touched him, yet, all he could think of was how very odd she was. He had thought it many times before, but now he was more certain than ever. He was determined that they would go back to London, he would find this Derek Grayson, and he would find a way to cure her, or he would never do another thing his entire life. "Let's pack our things and go back home. I'm sick of it here."

"Would you stay with me at my flat?" she asked.

"Are you afraid that man will find you?" he asked.

She had not even thought that. "No, I just want to be with you."

"I would love to stay with you, on one condition, you let me put my feet on your coffee table," he said smugly.

"I don't think we're at that stage in our relationship yet," she joked.

He shook his head and said, "Fine, but on one thing I won't concede."

"What's that?" she asked, taking both his hands, and staring up in his face.

He was going to say something inane, something about Weasley's feet never being on her coffee table again, but instead, he said, "Just don't ever forget me." He thought about Agnes' diary and the fact that she forgot everything, and he really didn't want that to happen to her.

"You're so funny, I won't ever forget you. Why would you say that?" she asked.

"No reason. Just promise me," he said. He took his right hand from her grasp, and put it on her face.

"I promise." She leaned up and kissed his lips gently.


	20. Sorry

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 20- Sorry:****  
**  
A few days had gone by since their 'unromantic' get-a-way, and Draco was totally ignoring Hermione. The reason was clear, though he was in denial. The reason he was ignoring her was the guilt he felt over her current predicament. Until he could clear his conscience, he would continue to avoid her.

He knew he was a coward. He never pretended to be anything else, so he would not make any excuses. He did not seek her out, and he knew she would not seek out him. He knew she couldn't use her magic, so she couldn't very well apparate to his office, so he was safe from her while at work.

She had never been to his house, didn't even know where he lived, so no danger of her 'popping' in uninvited.

He didn't own a telephone.

She didn't own an owl.

It was actually quite easy to avoid her, except for one thing. It was pure agony.

He visited Adrian Pucey the next day after they came back from Hogwarts. He wanted to return the Professor's file (after copying the entire contents), and he wanted to see if Adrian could help him to locate Derek Grayson. Adrian told Draco he didn't have that kind of pull at the Ministry, and 'sorry, can't help you out, bloke'. Draco decided to take a bite of humble pie, and visit Harry Potter. While Adrian was a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Team, Potter was an Auror. Why ask Adrian, when Potter was the better choice. That was like asking a poodle to guard your valuables, when you knew a German shepherd who could do the job. Potter had unlimited resources, and that bloody scar to back him up.

Harry agreed to meet Draco, at the very same café Draco meet Hermione a month ago. Had it really been a month? When Potter walked in, Draco nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Malfoy," Harry said curtly, sitting down. He did not offer the man his hand.

"Potter," Draco responded in kind. He didn't want to shake Potter's hand anyway.

"I don't have all day, spit it out, Malfoy," Harry spat.

"Never one for niceties, are you, Potter? Fine, I need a favour. I need you to find a man for me. His name is Derek Grayson, he's a wizard, would be about 61 years old. This is a picture of him, from long ago." Draco brought one of the old photos out of his pocket, and scooted it across the table. "I believe he might have gone to the Dewey Institute. If you remember, his name was on the chalkboard along with Granger's and Agnes Abernathy's names."

"The chalkboard from the school that collapsed and almost killed my best friend, that chalkboard, Malfoy?" Harry asked, sarcastically.

Draco was fuming. How dare Potter bring that up? "Yes," he responded, remaining cool on the outside.

"Why?" Potter asked, as he leaned back in his chair.

"I think you know why," Draco said. "This will help someone for whom we both care deeply."

"And who could we both possibly care for, Malfoy?" Potter asked. He was making this hard on Draco.

"Well, I don't mean Weasley, you stupid wanker," Draco said. "For Fuck's sakes, Potter, you know who I mean."

Harry sat upright again, pushed the picture back toward Draco, and stood up. "Hermione already asked me to find him, and I have, and we will go talk to him together, her and I. No one needs your help, Malfoy. Of course, if you weren't such a bloody fool, and if you were in communication with her, you would know all of this right now."

Draco stood as well, "When did she ask you to find him?"

"Two days ago. Again, if you weren't on the outs, you would know that. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I prefer it when you two aren't talking. Just leave her alone. Now, I have to get back to work. Don't call me again." Harry turned to leave, but Draco took his arm. Harry looked at Draco's hand on his arm, and said, "Remove your hand, or lose it. It's your choice."

Draco removed his hand. He said, "First, Potter, we aren't on the outs, we're fine. Second, don't presume to threaten me. That would be a mistake on your part."

Harry glared at him and said, "So, you aren't avoiding her? You aren't treating her like a piece of dirt on your shoes? You didn't take her away for a weekend, have sex with her, and then not contact her? She has lied to me about all of that, I suppose. All the tears she's shed over you, on my shoulder, have all been a scam? You haven't thrown her out like yesterday's rubbish? Gee, if I've maligned your character, well, I don't give a shite. Goodbye, Malfoy, leave her the hell alone. No one treats my friends poorly, and then expects a favour from me."

Draco said, "You don't know what you are talking about, Potter."

"No, I do know, I just don't care. By the way, your property is no longer seized, so you are welcome to it. All dark traces of magic have been removed. Bill Weasley told me to tell you he no longer works for you, and in case you're wondering, our investigation showed that the school was cursed to collapse that day specifically when Hermione entered, which means, you are my prime suspect. Good day." Harry Potter left an utterly confused Malfoy in the café. Draco had to go see Hermione.

Draco was concerned. Did Hermione think all the things that Potter said? Did she think that he slept with her and then tossed her aside? How dare she think that of him! It wasn't everyday that Draco Malfoy told a woman he loved her. Had she told Potter that they made love, and afterwards, he pushed her to the curb? Because, that wasn't the truth, was it?

It was the truth. Damn all things to Hell! Had she told Potter that Draco left her to her own defenses and she was hurt by that man outside The Three Broomsticks?

Had she told Potter about the fight they had that night in her apartment?

When they arrived back at her flat that Saturday night, Draco was still famished. Stupid Weasley was asleep on her sofa, with Pippin sleeping on his chest. Hermione walked up to Ron and shook his shoulder, as Draco went to sit in a chair.

"Ron, wake up. You can go home now," Hermione said.

Ron sat up and said, "Is it Sunday yet?" The witless Red-head stood up and stretched, and then rubbed his eyes.

"No," Hermione began, "its still Saturday. We came back early. Hogwarts was a dead-end."

"McGonagall didn't help you?" Ron asked.

"More like she couldn't help us," Hermione reasoned. "She couldn't reveal anything to us, but she did give us the Professor's old school file. We'll just have to find another way, I guess."

Ron embraced her and stroked her hair, which caused Draco to cringe. Draco stared at the two, and he felt left out, jealous, and something else, which was harder to define. He felt like he was imposing.

Ron said, "Don't worry, Hermione, Harry and I will help you restore your magic. Look at all the times your magic helped us in the past. We wouldn't have survived to adulthood without it." Ron laughed and so did Hermione. "By the way, where did the git go?"

"The git is over here, Weasel," Draco said, from his place in the chair.

Hermione stifled another laugh; Ron shrugged, and kissed her forehead. "I love you, and I'll talk to you later, Hermione. Bye, git." Ron said, waving to Draco. He disapparated away.

Draco wanted to scream. How dare he tell Hermione he loved her! Draco stood up and said, "How nice that he's allowed access to just apparate in and out of your home, Hermione." Draco's mood was foul, due to his lack of nourishment, and his dislike of Hermione's friends.

"May I remind you, you also have that pleasure," Hermione said.

Draco moved from the chair over to the sofa. He purposely put both feet on her coffee table and said, "How considerate of you, and how convenient as well, all your little boyfriends can come and go as they please, anytime of the day or night, and I suppose that included your bosses, as well as Scarhead."

Hermione sat beside him and said, "And Marcus." Hermione gave him a scathing look. He wasn't the only one in a foul mood.

"Marcus? That bugger? You hardly know him well enough for him to come and go as he pleases!" Draco placed his feet firmly back on the floor.

"I think that's my business, not yours. He's even had his feet on my coffee table," she said with ire.

"He wouldn't dare!" Draco said, standing. "That better be a lie!"

Hermione stood and said, "You are insane. You act like putting your feet on the coffee table is a euphemism for having sex!" Hermione put her hand on his arm and said, "What in the world is wrong with you tonight?"

Draco removed her arm and yelled, "I'm hungry!" If only it was that easy, and that simple.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione said, "I'll fix us something to eat."

"Don't bother. I'll grab something at home," Draco said, pushing past her.

"Does that mean you're leaving?" she asked anxiously. "I thought you said you would stay tonight."

"Why should I?" he asked, "It's not like your wards will let in any man you don't want in, so you don't need my protection."

"I didn't want you to stay for protection. I can protect myself. I wanted the company," she reasoned.

"Call one of your other friends, I'm tired, and I have a headache," he complained.

"Are we back to being just friends, Malfoy?" she asked quietly. "I thought we had this conversation a long time ago. I don't think of you as a friend. Please, tell me why you're so angry with me. What did I do wrong? Is this because I ruined our dinner? I already apologized for that."

He didn't respond. He didn't know what to say without appearing to be a bigger bastard than he already was.

"Please, tell me," she urged.

"I'm just hungry, Hermione!" he shouted. Lies, lies, lies.

"Go eat and come back," she implored. "Or, I could go with you, to your house," she urged.

"I told you, I'm tired as well. I have to go," Draco said, moving toward the center of the room. "I'll contact you in a few days." He wasn't lying at that point; he did have a massive headache. His guilt was weighing on him like an anchor around his neck, causing him to drown in his own lies. Breathing was becoming difficult. Looking at her was even difficult.

He wanted to run away and never face her again. He WAS a coward.

She sat down on the sofa and didn't say another word to him. He looked at her once more, and then left.

That was four days ago. He didn't know why he blamed her for his guilt. Even he knew that was wrong. Why should he make her feel bad? Why hurt her?

After Potter left him in the café, Draco apparated to her apartment. He was surprised that her wards still allowed him entry, but of course, she could not change them now, since she didn't have magic. She wasn't there, but there was a note on the table. It wasn't addressed to him. It was addressed to Pothead, but a note addressed to someone else never stopped Draco from reading it before, so it wouldn't stop him now.

He sat at the table, and started to read the note. She told Harry that Ron had taken her to her appointment and that when she got back, they could try to go see Derek Grayson again. Again? Did that mean they had already tried once? Why didn't she ask Draco to go with her? As soon as he thought that, he knew the answer: because he had been avoiding her, and she didn't know why. He knew why, and that hurt him even more.

He threw the note down on the floor, and was about to leave, when he heard crying. He knew it was Hermione before he saw her. She opened her front door, entered her apartment, and looked right over at him.

"Where were you?" he asked. There were more pressing things to ask, but that was the first thing to pop in his head.

"I had an appointment at St. Mungo's. Ron went with me, but I took a cab back," she said. She sat down on the other chair.

"Why were you crying?" he asked, afraid of the answer. "Did they have bad news for you at St. Mungo's?"

"Well, it wasn't good news, I rather think. My scans are about the same, and they still don't know how to help me. I feel the answer still lies with Derek Grayson. Harry and I have found him, and we tried to see him the other day, but he doesn't trust anyone who works for the Ministry. We were right, Draco, he is a wizard. I want to try to go visit him again," she said, staring at the top of the little white table.

"I read your note to Potter," Draco admitted. "You can't go see Grayson without me, okay? I don't work for the Ministry, so maybe he would agree to see you if I was there, not Potter. I have as much at stake as you do, so it's my right to see the man with you."

"You would really go with me?" she asked.

"I'm never leaving you again, so yes, I will go with you," he said. He meant it. He was certain he would never leave her again. He was done running away. The only thing that mattered now was that she forgave him. He had to try for her forgiveness next. He had to make everything right again. He said, "Time for sorry, don't you think?"

She finally looked up and said, "Draco, I am sorry for whatever I've done to cause you so much anger. We made love, and then you left me, and I felt so alone and dejected."

He stopped her before she could continue. "Hermione, don't take the blame for how I've been acting. That will only make me feel worse than I feel now. I meant it was time for me to say that I was sorry. Everything is my fault; losing your magic, your attack at Hogsmeade, everything."

Hermione shook her head and said, "Draco, that's a lot of guilt for one person to take. Listen, we all make mistakes, that's what makes us human, but I swear, I don't want you to wallow in self-pity or guilt any longer, because I don't blame you for any of this, and I don't want you to blame yourself. If it's anyone's fault, it's the dead professor's, but it's not yours and it's not mine."

"How did you get to be so smart?" he asked.

"Where have you been?" she asked, smiling. "I've always been smart, and that has nothing to do with my magic. No one can take that away from me."

He hoped she was right. What if what happened to Agnes happened to her? He didn't want to dwell on that thought. He said, "And I've always been a self-centered, egotistical prat, and I'm rather good at it, so don't fault me for that, okay? Just forgive me."

"I forgive you, if you forgive me," she said. She looked back down.

He put his hand on her chin, lifted her face and said, "I am so sorry, Hermione, please forgive me for the way I've been acting. None of this is even remotely your fault, so there's nothing for me to forgive. I'm a fool, and I was having a hard time with all my new feelings. They were exploding all over the place. Love, guilt, sorrow, empathy, all tangled up together, causing me to act like a bigger bastard than normal. I have never felt like this before, and I've handled things badly. I don't know how to care for someone as much as I care for you, so I ran away, and it was wrong, but I won't leave you again. I want to seek your forgiveness." He stood up and pulled her up to him. He kissed her lips.

She leaned into his embrace, almost collapsing into his arms. She began to cry harder. He picked her up and carried her to the couch. He sat down with her in his lap. He supported her back with one hand, as the other hand went to her neck. He kissed away her tears, one by one, and then his lips traveled to her neck. His hand went under her shirt, to rest on her stomach. His mouth pulled on her lips, and found their way down her neck, to her collarbone. She put both arms tight around his neck.

"Will you stay with me tonight, please? I need to feel you beside me," she begged.

"I would never refuse you again, but first, promise me, no more spilled tears over me, okay?" he finally said.

"Well, I wasn't crying over you, or even because of what the doctor's told me. I was crying because I just heard some bad news. Agnes Abernathy died today."


	21. Coffee Tables and Funerals

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 21 – Coffee Tables and Funerals:**

Draco swallowed hard. Agnes died. That poor woman. What a wasted life, to be so young and gifted, and to have all of that taken away, and then to spend the rest of your life in a suspended state of sleep. What if that happened to Hermione? Draco had been having dark thoughts such as these, ever since they found out about Agnes. He also found himself feeling sorry for Derek Grayson, and he wasn't sure why.

Draco said, "Potter told me today that the school was spelled to collapse when you entered. He said I was the prime suspect." He wanted to change the subject, but he could have changed it to something more pleasant.

She looked up at him, put her hand on his face, and said, "You aren't really the prime suspect, but yes, he told me that as well. He's trying to find out all he can on that man who attacked me in Hogsmeade. He's the real prime suspect, since he mentioned specifically the school collapsing to me. Draco, I went and sat with Agnes the other day."

"You did?"

"Yes, I couldn't help myself. I sat on her bed, held her hand, and poured out my troubles to her. What if I end up like her?" she said, worried.

So much for changing the subject. "Hermione, we don't know why that happened to her, but I don't think it had anything to do with her losing her magic, because we aren't aware of that happening to any of the other students that Professor Dewey taught."

She closed her eyes, and held him tight. She was still worried, he could tell. He shifted their bodies so they were both lying on the couch, he against the back, her by the edge. Her head was resting on the arm of the sofa, and Draco was staring at her intently. His hand traced her facial features, and then he leaned down and kissed her again. He pressed his lips gently against hers, begging her to allow him the closeness he craved.

They continued to kiss, and Draco's hand traveled down her neck, to the middle of her breasts. He kissed her neck, and whispered in her ear, "You are so lovely." Her hands were roaming his arms, and she reached down and removed his shirt right over his head. He was surprised and pleased.

"Anxious?" he asked, with a half smile.

"I thought perhaps you were warm," she answered.

"I am, thank you," he said, kissing her between each word. "Are you warm?"

"Yes," she answered.

He reached down, pulled her shirt slowly up her abdomen, over her swell of breasts, and then with her help, he threw if over her head, so that it landed on the floor.

"What happened to the pretty little lacy bra you wore the other day?" he asked, kissing along the tops of her breasts, over her plain pink bra.

"That was my 'first time' bra, this isn't our first time," she said smiling.

"How presumptuous of you to think we're going to have sex, my dear," he smiled. He put his hand over one breast, squeezed, and then rubbed his thumb back and forth, until he could see its point through her bra.

He pulled her bra down her shoulders and she reached around to unclasp the back. The couch allowed little movement, but he liked it there. He moved his body down hers, taking one of the dusky pink petals in his mouth. She arched her back. He remained at her breasts, as if they were providing him with more than pleasure, his hand gliding into the waistband of her jeans. He unbuttoned the button, and drew the zipper down.

Still kissing her breasts, and her mouth, one and then the other, his hand sunk lower, into the small opening he provided, and he began to press on her with his finger, on the top of her knickers. She moved her hips, and bit her bottom lip. He took a quick glance up to her face. He moved on the couch, and pulled down both her pants and her knickers swiftly in one movement, so she was completely nude.

He sat up on the couch, and she scrambled beside him. He didn't have time to remove the rest of his clothing, because for some reason he was in a hurry, so he undid his slacks, pushed them slightly down his hips, and with him still sitting on the couch, he pulled her over to sit on his lap. She straddled his hips, engulfing him fully inside her in a single movement.

"OH, Hermione," he exclaimed. He planted his legs farther apart, feet firmly on the ground, then leaned his back against the back of couch, and with his hands on her hips, he guided her up and down.

He had a determined look on his face, and his legs began to spasm. He was too close, too soon. She had her hands on his shoulders, and she leaned backward so far, that he had to put his hands on her back to keep her from falling over. He pulled her back upright, picked her up, and with one arm swept everything off her coffee table, and placed her back on the smooth cool wood. He parted from her for a moment, sliding her across the smooth cherry wood of her large, square, apothecary style coffee table. He joined her in no time, to lie on top of her. He entered her swiftly and they came almost as quick.

He fell down on top of her, when suddenly, one of the little legs on the coffee table gave out from their weight, snapping in half, tilting the table, and they both slid off to the ground, Draco first, Hermione on top of him. She scrambled up, picked his shirt up to drape in front of her, and said, "My poor coffee table."

"It was worth it," Draco said, zipping his trousers.

"But, my coffee table," she pointed.

"So, now I can be sure no other man will put their feet on it. They'll slide right off," he joked, grabbing his shirt from in front of her body and slipping it on his arms. He handed her shirt to her.

She stood there, very naked, holding her shirt, and pointed once more. "MY COFFEE TABLE!"

"Yes, you've said that three times now! If you're that concern, fix the damn thing, you are a witch, aren't you?" he said. It left his mouth before he realized what he said.

She tilted her head, gave him a sad look, threw her shirt over her head, slipped her knickers on and sat down on her couch. He came and sat beside her. "I'm an idiot," he said. He looked over at her and she nodded her head in agreement to his statement.

He pulled his wand out from his slacks, and said a spell to mend her table. He pulled her to his side, and wrapped his arms tightly around her. "See, you need me now Granger, because I am very handy around the house. If I break something, I can make it right again."

"Sure, Draco," she said. She put her head on his shoulder.

After a prolonged silence, he said, "How did you know Agnes died?"

"I told you that I went to see her the day after we got back. I sat with her for hours, just talking to her, holding her hand. Then this morning, her niece called me before my appointment, and told me that she had died that same day. It wasn't expected. Christine said that her aunt had two other visitors the day she died. Her old friend from school, Derek Grayson, and his nephew," Hermione told him.

"I wonder if that had anything to do with her death," Draco wondered aloud.

"I don't know. The funeral is in two days, and I'm going. Are you coming with me?" she asked as she looked up at his face.

He smiled at her sweetly, and said, "I'll go anywhere with you." He looked across the room, holding her tight, and he hoped that Derek Grayson would make an appearance at the funeral. He had a lot to ask the man.

Two days later, Hermione was in her apartment, putting her black shoes on her feet, when Draco arrived. He didn't say a word to her. He helped her with her coat, took her hand, and they apparated to the graveyard. It was an appropriate day for a funeral, grey skies, light rain, and a cold wind blowing. Hermione and Draco didn't want to impose upon Christine and her family, so they didn't go to the actual funeral. They went directly to the graveyard, for the graveside service. They stood far away from the crowd, which was small. Hermione felt a tear run down her face, and she wasn't sure why. She didn't even know Agnes.

Draco turned to look at Hermione, and his hand came to rest on her face. "Chin up, Granger." He didn't know what else to say. He looked away from Hermione for a moment, and then said, "Stay here, I'll be right back."

He had just seen a wizard apparate behind a large tombstone. This man also stood away from the crowd, but it was clear he was here for Agnes, as he stood and watched her family hover around the coffin, placing red roses on top. Draco popped behind the man, who quickly turned around. Though he was older, Draco recognized him by his picture.

"Derek Grayson?" Draco asked.

The man drew a wand. "Who the hell are you?"

"I was a friend of Agnes Abernathy," Draco said. He didn't feel it was a lie.

"How do you know my name?" Derek asked.

"I know more than your name. My name is Draco Malfoy, and as you can see, I'm a wizard as well. I'd like to talk with you."

"If you work for the Ministry, I'll tell you the same thing I told Harry Potter, I don't want to talk to anyone. The last time I trusted the Ministry, they let a lunatic off with an insignificant punishment, which amounted to a slap on the wrist. That was 48 years ago, but I have a long memory, and an even longer grudge against the magic world. Good day, Mr. Malfoy," the older man said. He started to walk toward the small white tent, which was over the gravesite. Draco didn't know what to say to stop him.

"You loved her, didn't you?" Draco asked.

Derek turned around, "To whom are you referring?"

"Agnes." Draco already knew the answer.

"From the time I was a child, when I first met her, until the day I die, is that your answer?" Derek asked.

"I love someone too, and I need to help her, before what happened to Agnes happens to her, please, just hear me out," Draco implored.

"The young woman that was with Harry Potter, you mean? The one that lost her magic? He already explained it all to me. I'm sorry, but it has nothing to do with me. I can't help anyone. If I could help, don't you think I would have helped Agnes? Good day." Derek again turned to leave.

Draco pulled out his wand, "Don't make me hurt you, but for her, I would. Please, just talk to me."

Hermione came running up to Draco. "Draco, put your wand away, even though the family is leaving now, someone might see."

"Is this the woman you love?" Derek asked Draco, with a nod of his head.

"Yes," Draco answered, as he looked from the man to Hermione.

Derek took a deep breath. He said, "Fine, we can talk. Meet me tonight, eight o'clock, at the little enclosed park near Agnes' house. I'll try to explain everything."

Hermione said, "Oh, Mr. Grayson, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with us!"

"No, young woman, I'll meet with Mr. Malfoy, but not you, and I have my reasons. Mr. Malfoy, come alone, or not at all, those are your only options. Now, please, let me mourn in peace," Derek said. He looked back toward the now empty gravesite, and then back toward Hermione and Draco. He started to walk over to the grave.

Hermione watched as he walked slowly over to the grave, where the coffin was being lowered in the ground. He pulled a single white rose out of his jacket pocket, and threw it on top of her coffin. "Why won't he meet with me?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know, Hermione, but let me do this for you. I'll tell you everything, I promise," Draco said, holding her hand, and kissing it once.

"I have a list of things I need you to ask him," she said.

He rolled his eyes and said, "Of course you do, you wouldn't be Hermione Granger if you didn't."

"Draco?" Hermione said.

"What?"

"If I die suddenly, or something else would happen to me, don't spend your whole life mourning me, the way he has her. He seems so sad and broken. Both of their lives were wasted, and that wasn't necessary," Hermione pleaded.

He looked quickly back toward the older man, who was kneeling on the ground, head in hands, obviously weeping. He looked back toward her, a stern look on his face and he said, "Nothing's happening to you, so don't talk like that."

"But, if it does, just live you life, don't waste it," she said.

He frowned, and took her tight in his arms. He had a bad feeling about everything. He hated this feeling. He said, "I can't make you any promises." It was true, he could not promise her something like that. "Let's go, Granger. This place is damn depressing." He looked around; to be certain no one was watching, and he apparated them back to her flat.


	22. Quiet Moments Such as These

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 22 – Quiet Moments Such as These:****  
**  
Back at Hermione's flat, all things were quiet. Hermione was changing from her dark suit into a set of red sweats. She changed quietly in the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door. Draco removed his jacket and sat down at her table. He glanced toward the bathroom, and he saw her brushing her hair. He sat with his hands clasped in front of him. He didn't know what to say or do. He could tell that Hermione was worried. She was worried that whatever happened to Agnes was going to happen to her. He knew she felt that way, because he felt that way, too. He looked back toward the bathroom again, and Hermione was no longer standing in front of the vanity.

He walked slowly over to the bathroom, and peered in. She was sitting on the side of the tub. She was neither sad, nor happy, merely contemplating. He walked in the bathroom, leaned against the wall in front of her, and crossed his arms.

"Why do you think the Professor did what he did?" Hermione asked, looking up at Draco.

"He was a sick son of a bitch?" he asked back.

"I read his Hogwarts file. He was an outstanding student. He was a pureblood, but he never got in any trouble. He was in Slytherin, but overall, his school career was flawless, without any hint of tribulations. What would have led him to his hatred of Mudbloods?"

"Mudbloods? First, I'm shocked you would use such an abhorrent word," Draco said, with fake disgust. He smiled at her. He slid down the wall, to sit on the floor in front of the tub, his feet on each side of hers. "You know, Hermione, not everything is black and white. Perhaps he didn't hate Mudbloods. Perhaps he really thought he was doing something for the betterment of our kind. Rather warped, yes, but he didn't kill or torture them, he just removed their magic."

"Just?" she asked. "That's enough, and look what happened to Agnes."

"Agnes was a tragic case, but most of these people lost their magic before they realized what magic was, so they weren't aware of losing anything. You can't mourn what you didn't know you had. It seems he followed them throughout most of their lives, and most of them lived productive, happy lives as Muggles," Draco explained.

Hermione pushed his legs aside with her feet, slid off the side of the tub, to sit between his legs, her back against the smooth porcelain. She draped her legs gracefully over his. "It sounds like you're defending him."

"Not at all, don't ever think that, I'm just saying, he wasn't Voldemort. He had a god complex, certainly, and his mind was twisted, but he wasn't as evil as evil can be." He didn't know what else to say to her. She turned around, and put her back against his chest. He held one of her hands, as her free hand drew circles on his leg.

"It's strange that we should be in love so quickly, don't you think?" she asked, changing the subject.

"The heart wants what the heart wants," he waned.

She frowned, looked over her shoulder at him, and said, "You, the hopeless romantic? What's next, are you going to recite love sonnets to me? Are you going to get out your guitar, and sing me a love song?"

"Why so cynical, Granger?" he asked, drilling his finger in her side until she squealed in laughter. "I can be romantic without being sappy. I had a very romantic meal planned for us at Hogsmeade."

"Did you now?" she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Do tell," she urged.

"I would rather not, for I fear you're mocking me," he joked. He pushed her away from him, and struggled to stand. He finally stood up and said, "Out, I have to use these facilities for their intended use." She let out a fake laugh, and gave her hand to him. He helped her to stand. She started to leave the bathroom, but he still had her hand. She turned back around.

"Do you think it's strange that we're in love so quickly?" he asked.

"What's quick about it? I've loved you longer than you realize, Draco. You're the one who has just jumped on board the love train," she grinned. Hermione kissed his cheek, and shut the door.

They ate some dinner, and sat around her flat until 7:45 pm. If Draco wasn't so anxious about his meeting with Derek, he might have classified this day as one of the best in his history of days, minus the funeral earlier. It was a simple day, of simple acts, and quiet moments, and it fulfilled every fantasy he had of what it was like to be in love.

"Do you think you should tell Harry about your meeting?" she asked.

Draco looked at her with a look of disgust, and Hermione looked at him apologetically. She stood and wrapped her arms around him tightly, said, "Good luck," and kissed his cheek.

"I'll be back tonight, I promise. Take care," Draco said. He held her hand for a while, and then let it go, to go meet Derek Grayson.

Draco arrived before Grayson. He apparated directly into the park, and looked around, didn't see anyone, so he pulled up his collar, and sat down on a wooden bench. He heard footstep approaching. He fingered his wand in his pocket. He turned his head, and saw Grayson approach.

Draco stood, and nodded, "Mr. Grayson."

"Let's be quick, Mr. Malfoy, this hasn't been a good day for me, I'm sure you understand," Derek said. He sat down on the bench, and Draco sat back down beside him.

"Before you ask any questions, let me just tell you what I know. Mr. Potter already asked me enough questions, of course, I didn't answer any." Derek ran his hand through his grey hair, and continued, "When I was seven years old, a nice man came to visit my mother. She was told that I was up for a scholarship at his day school. I was already an exceptional student, young as I was, and I could make things happen, if you catch my drift. My mother was alone, she worked three jobs, and she frankly had no time for me, though she loved me. This was an answer to her prayers."

"I started at the school, the same time Agnes did. We were best friends from the start. There were roughly twenty other students at that time. He never had many students at one time. Understand this, to all outward appearances; Professor Nathaniel Dewey was a dedicated educator, who loved teaching and his students."

"I never knew my father and my mother never married. The Professor must have assumed I was Muggle-born, but I know now that I must have been half blood. I understand Miss Granger lost her magic from merely opening a book. That's probably how they all lost their magic. I, however, not being a 'Mudblood', didn't lose my powers. I've often wondered why the professor kept up the ruse, and continued teaching all of his students, even after he drained their magic. A sense of making right his wrongs, maybe. Most of his students went on to acclaimed secondary institutes, and almost all went on to University. They became pillars in their Muggle communities, doctors, lawyers, politicians, and the like."

"Don't ask me how he found the Muggle-borns, because I really don't know. His system couldn't have been fool-proof, or he wouldn't have made his mistake with me."

"Around age eleven, I confided to Agnes little things I could do. I could levitate things, I could already transfigure. No one taught me these things. I could just do them. She couldn't do things like me, because she, of course, had already lost her powers, but she was still telepathic, and she could communicate to me without words. She used to do it all the time. I think her magic would have been so much stronger than mine was. I had already received my Hogwarts letter as well. She, no longer being magical, had not received hers. I showed it to her, that was my mistake."

Draco finally interrupted. "Did the professor find out?"

"Yes, he did. He saw me showing her my letter. I think he was shocked, because none of his students, in all his decades of teaching, ever regained their magic, and that's what he assumed happened with Agnes and me. However, she hadn't regained her magic, he just assumed she had, and in truth, I never lost mine. He devised a spell to find out if I was Muggle-born, found out I was half blood, and expelled me from his school. By this time, I already knew what he was doing, because I had already snooped through his writings, his personal journals. I confronted him with what I knew. Imagine, this little boy yelling at this respected man. I demanded to know what 'magic' was, and what 'wizards' were, and what 'Muggle-borns' were. He knew then that I had read his journals."

"He took Agnes and me up to the upstairs classroom, after the other children had left for the day, and he attempted to oblivate our memories. I don't know what he would have done after that, maybe he would have killed us. He started with me, but I escaped the spell, and somehow, Agnes, with that massive mind of hers, blocked him from hurting me. She took the brunt of his spell, and after that, she fell into her 'sleep state'. The professor thought he killed her, and he ran away. Next thing you know, men called 'Aurors' from something called, 'the Ministry of Magic', were upon us. They took Agnes to her folks, I don't know what they told them, and they took me into protective custody."

"They built their case, and it was solid, but I was the only witness. No one else at the school ever knew the professor as anything but as a wonderful instructor, who educated Muggles. I testified, but, as you know, his charges were dropped to lesser charges, and he served a mere six months. He came out of jail, started his school again, and kept up his evil work for twenty more years. He finally stopped, after Voldemort came to power the first time. It wasn't popular to have negative views on Muggle-borns right after Voldemort, so he was forced to stop. He dedicated the rest of his life to his writing. He never taught again."

"What happened to you, after the trial?" Draco asked.

"I went to Hogwarts, tried to live my life. I was lost. I didn't know how to be a wizard. I left school at age sixteen, before I graduated. I went that summer to Agnes. I had worked for years trying to come up with a spell, a potion, anything, to wake her up, and it worked! I was successful and she woke up. She even regained her magic, but she didn't remember me at all. I had to become her friend all over again. She didn't remember anything from the moment she first lost her magic, when she was seven, until that summer she was sixteen."

"Of course, the Ministry became involved again. I never told them what I did. I didn't tell them I woke her up, or the spell I used to help her regain her magic. They had quite a time with her. Here she was sixteen, just found out she was a witch, didn't remember her life for the most part. It was too much for her. Only her sister and parents knew she was a witch, for the Ministry had to tell them, but by that time she felt too different, she felt she lost too much. She didn't know how to handle her powers. She went into a depression, and she never got out of it. Frankly, sometimes I wish I hadn't given her magic back to her. I wish I had just woken her up, and lived my life as a Muggle with her."

"How did she fall back into the coma?" Draco asked.

"I don't know, my magic didn't work very well, I guess," he said with sadness.

"You said you communicated with her through the years?" Draco asked. "How?"

"For almost fifty years, I would receive messages from her. Sometimes, just something little, like on my birthday I would see something that reminded me of her, or hear a song that we used to sing, other times, actual written messages. I think the names on the chalkboard and the bright shiny classroom your friend saw before the school collapsed was a message from Agnes," Derek explained. "I told you, she was telepathic and unusually gifted.

"How did you know about the names on the chalkboard?" Draco asked.

"Mr. Potter," Derek said, "and to answer your next question, I had nothing to do with the building collapsing. The Ministry has already questioned me on this."

"Can you teach me the spell you used to help Agnes regain her magic? I want to try it with Hermione," Draco pleaded.

"No, I won't. Don't you see it didn't work? She forgot everything. She regained her magic, but lost her memories. It was too much!" Derek said.

"It won't be that way with Hermione. She still knows she's a witch. She's not been in a coma, so she hasn't lost any time. I have to admit, I have been worried that she might fall into the same sleep that Agnes did. I'm glad to know that won't happen at least," Draco said.

"Why do you think that won't happen?" Derek asked.

"Because, you said she took the brunt of the Oblivate spell. That's what caused her coma," Draco reasoned.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't know what to say. I don't know if that's what caused her coma. I ran away from the professor that day. I left her there in the classroom, all alone. I was a coward, so I don't know if that's what caused her coma, because I left the school before it happened. When the Aurors came, they found me outside, in the bushes, crying like the child I was, and they found her inside, asleep."

Draco did not know what to say. He thought his biggest worry was no more, and now he was not so sure. "Do you know who might have tried to kill Hermione by collapsing the school? Do you know a dark haired man who warned Hermione to stop trying to uncover the truth? Someone named James?"

"Mr. Potter questioned me about that as well. I don't know, but I think you should heed the man's warnings. Just love her. Does she have to have her magic for you to love her?" Derek asked. "If I could have Agnes back, I would be the happiest man on earth. For her sake, take note of the man's advice, and give up on this pursuit. I have nothing else to say. I won't tell you how to regain her magic. I won't. Goodbye, please, don't contact me again." Without notice, the older wizard disappeared.

Draco was angry. The man told his story, got things off his chest, but he didn't help them at all! Draco kicked the bench, and only proceeded to cause himself pain. He was sure he broke his toe. He couldn't go back to Hermione and say, "Sorry, he told me nothing, and you won't ever have your magic again." He couldn't do that to her.

Draco decided to apparate back to her flat, still unsure what he was going to say.

Hermione sat her desk, going through more files, when she heard the sound of someone apparating inside her flat. She turned quickly and said, "Oh, you scared me. How are you?" She stood up, walked over to the man, and was knocked over by a stunning spell. The man picked her body up from the floor, threw an envelope addressed to Draco on the ground, and disapparated away, Hermione in tow.


	23. Of Mice and Men

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 23 – Of Mice and Men:****  
**  
Hermione Granger was scared. Wherever this place was, it was dark, and cold. She saw him enter her apartment, she was surprised to see him, she said, 'hello', and then this. He must have stunned her. She hurt all over. What was happening? Why would he want to hurt her? He was her friend, wasn't he? If only she had her magic back, none of this would have happened. Her only regret was that she might never see Draco again.

Draco arrived back to the flat, and the first thing he noticed was that Granger was missing. He went to the bathroom, and still no Granger. He even looked in the alcove, and pulled back the covers of the bed, in case she was already asleep, but no Granger. He went back to the middle of the room, and that was when he saw it, a plain brown envelope with his name on it. He bent down, picked it up, and opened it. He read the contents. He crumpled the letter in his hand and yelled every expletive he knew and some he just made up. He went to the fireplace, to floo Potter.

Harry Potter was sitting at his kitchen table, looking over all the evidence they obtained about the professor and his school. He was certain he knew who put the spell on the school, he just didn't know why. He would probably make an arrest tomorrow. He was going to try to get Derek Grayson to talk to him tomorrow as well, even if he had to bring the man in forcibly for questioning. Harry didn't usually abuse his power as an Auror, and frankly as Harry Potter, but in the case of his friends and family, he would do whatever was necessary. He hoped Bill and Charlie had all the evidence ready for him to present to the Ministry tomorrow.

Bill and Charlie Weasley were working late at the office. They were wrapping up all loose ends on the Dewey estate, because they had to give Harry Potter a final report tomorrow. They had removed all dark curses from the house and the contents. Charlie was writing up the final report to give to Malfoy, Harry, and the Ministry, and Bill was jotting down an itemized statement, to give to Marcus in the morning, for payment for their services. Bill felt bad that they were not able to uncover anything that would help Hermione. Charlie and he had already decided that they still wanted Hermione to work for them, magic or not, but still, it was a shame she might never use magic again. After all, she was not only their brother Ron's best friend, she was family.

Ron Weasley was at his parents' house, eating a snack before bed. He was supposed to take Hermione to the Muggle hospital in the morning for some more tests. In his opinion, all of these tests were a waste of time and money. Hermione would get her magic back. She had to. He didn't know what he would do if she didn't. If he had to beat that man, Derek Grayson, into helping them, he would. He would beat him with his bare hands.

Derek Grayson sat down at his kitchen table and poured himself another drink. He was getting drunk, because he didn't want to feel pain any longer. He was tired, so very tired. He didn't know what to do any longer. He was too late to help the only woman he loved, and now, he refused to help another man save the woman he loved. Fate was fickle, life was a bitch, and sometimes stories don't have a happy ending. If only he had never met Marcus Flint, maybe none of this would have happened.

Marcus Flint was pacing back and forth at the Dewey house, waiting for an important visitor. He was supposed to be here by now. He was supposed to come as soon as he talked to Derek Grayson. Where was he? Marcus knew he was in too deep, and he saw no way out. So much suffering and pain. He never wanted to hurt anyone. He never wanted this! He cared for her, too. If there was another way, he would do it, but there was no other way! He wished the man would hurry up and come.

A dark haired man stood outside the Dewey House, as he smoked a cigarette. He hoped Marcus Flint had some good news for him. If he didn't hear some good news soon, there would be hell to pay. He scared the Mudblood at Hogsmeade, but he wasn't above killing her if he had to. Someone had to answer for the other man's sins.

Another man walked into the small cottage on the Dewey estate. He opened the door to the back bedroom, where she lay bound and gagged, on a bed. Why didn't she listen to him? Why didn't she leave everything alone? If she died now, it would only be her own fault. He never wanted to kill her; he never wanted to kill Agnes. He only wanted to keep Professor Dewey's secret. Was keeping a secret worth killing her? He hoped not. He hoped Draco Malfoy would come to his senses, read the letter he left him, and do the right thing; otherwise, Hermione Granger would meet the same fate as Agnes Abernathy. He walked over to the bed, removed her blindfold and gag, stroked her face, and said one word, "Sorry."

The man left her again, but came back shortly. Hermione could tell that he was troubled. Perhaps she could reach him somehow, make him see that he needed to do the right thing. "Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"I never wanted anyone to get hurt, I swear, I didn't," he said.

"Please, let me go. I'm scared," she said truthfully.

"I don't want to scare you. I actually brought you here for your own protection. If Malfoy follows my instructions to the letter, no one will get hurt, and you can go on with your life."

"Why?" she asked.

The man hung his head and started to cry. "Oh, Hermione, I don't even remember any longer. I set you up from the beginning. I knew what the house would do to you, I knew you would lose you magic. I had to. I had to prove to a very important customer that the Professor's things were worth the money he was going to pay me. That was before I got to know you better. When I arranged that meeting with you, I had no idea I wouldn't be able to keep it, and that Draco would meet you, and that you two would fall in love." Marcus Flint hung his head in shame.

A tear ran down her cheek. He wiped it off. He leaned down and whispered, "Don't cry, and don't be scared. The worst is over, I promise. We just need to wait for Draco."

Draco Malfoy was running out of time, and out of options. He contacted Harry Potter the moment he read the letter. Harry contacted Ron, and his brothers, as well as some other Aurors. Draco had to contact his solicitor as well. It was not as if he had large sums of money easily at his disposal. The man wanted 5 million galleons, which was a hell of a lot of money. Draco had that much, but it wasn't exactly pocket change. Most of his money was tied up in real estate, his business, and other investments. He could ask his father for the money, but the note said not to involve anyone else, and he had already involved Potter. If something else happened to Hermione because of Draco Malfoy, Draco WOULD NOT live with the guilt.

Hermione heard Marcus Flint yelling at someone in the other room. He was saying something about how Draco would pay anything, and he told the other person they would get all their money back. Hermione also heard Marcus say that he couldn't help it if the Weasleys were successful in removing the dark curses.

"I will just use the Mudblood! I'll examine her, and see what means Professor Dewey used to remove their magic," the man yelled.

"NO!" Marcus yelled back. "You tried that with Agnes, and she died. I won't let you try it with her. Be patient! Draco will give your money back!"

"You're a fool! It is not about the money! I want to know how the magic works!" the other man said. "You thought they would just leave it alone, but you were wrong! Now, all I have left is her, and I would rather have her than the money."

"You said if I got your money back, you wouldn't hurt anyone else," Marcus said.

"Well, I lied, didn't I?" the man said. Hermione heard more yelling, and the distinct sounds of a wizard's duel. She shut her eyes tight, and rolled in a ball. Please, make it all end.

Someone ran in the room, grabbed her arm, and disapparated away. In the other room of the cottage, a man was dead on the floor.

Someone placed Hermione on a soft, comfortable bed. They kissed her cheek. She finally opened her eyes. It was Derek Grayson. "I'm so sorry. I should have helped you before now. Don't make a sound. You're safe for the time being. I have to get back to the cottage." He removed the binding from her feet and hands, and the gag from her mouth. He touched her cheek and said, "I'm doing this for Agnes." He left her alone, confused and more afraid than before.

It was too early in the morning for Draco to talk to his father. Even with some fancy financing, Draco was only able to come up with 3 million galleons. His father was his only hope. He was about to leave the Ministry, to go directly to the Manor, when he saw a familiar person walking his way.

Derek looked at Draco and said, "Your business partner is dead, so you won't need that money any longer."

"What?" Draco asked. "I should kill you with my own hands! Where is she?" Draco asked.

"I didn't take her, he just wanted you to think that," Derek said. "No, let me amend that, I didn't take her before. I did now. She's safe. You need to take her somewhere far away. I'll contact you as soon as I can. Take this pendant. It will take you to a safe place. It's a portkey. You have no reason to trust me, but I hope you do."

"You said Marcus is dead?" Draco asked.

"Yes, and I am going to go turn myself in. I killed him. I did not want to. You have to understand, the man from Hogsmeade, James, he paid your partner a lot of money for all of the professor's artifacts. Marcus used Miss Granger to prove to him that the dark magic still worked. It is a moot point now, because all the magic is gone, since the Weasley brother's removed all the curses and dark magic. Marcus thought if he got the man his money back, he would leave everyone alone."

"He was wrong. The man doesn't want his money back. He wants Miss Granger. He wants to use her as a guinea pig, to examine, and pick a part, to discover what magic was used on her to remove her magic. He won't be easily stopped. I tried to let him examine Agnes, to keep Miss Granger safe, but he ended up killing her. Please, take this portkey, go to her, and keep her safe. I couldn't save my Agnes, but you can still save your Hermione."

"You aren't telling me everything!" Draco shouted.

"I can't tell you everything," Derek said longingly.

"At least tell me who this man is," Draco implored.

"He's my son." Derek saw Harry Potter walking toward them, turned to Draco, and said, "Hurry, go now." Harry started running toward the two men, as Draco grasped the pendant, and was transported away.

He was outside a decrepit looking old stone cottage. There was smoke bellowing out of the chimney, so the place was inhabited. He drew his wand, and went toward the door. He looked inside, and in the single room, on a narrow bed, lying on her side, crying, was Hermione Granger.

She sat up immediately, dried her eyes, and ran to Draco, who stood in the doorway, speechless. She threw her arms around him. "I think Marcus Flint is dead," she said.

"I glad," Draco said. He wasn't really, but in a way, he was, especially since Marcus was to blame for what happened to Hermione. Somehow, it was easier to censure Marcus, than to blame himself. He was tired of taking all the culpability for what happened to her. He swung her around, hugging her tight, slamming the door shut with his foot.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"I was hoping you would tell me," Draco said. He also hoped that Derek could be trusted. He looked around. "This is a damn depressing place. The least he could have done is hide you somewhere nice, like a four star hotel or something," Draco expressed.

"Next time I'm kidnapped, I'll request better accommodations," she waned. She sighed and said, "So, I take it your meeting with Derek didn't turn out very well, since he killed Marcus and brought me here."

Draco explained everything he knew to Hermione. She surmised that the man in the other room, the one at the cottage on the grounds of the Dewey estate, must have been Derek's son, and the same man who threatened her in Hogsmeade, and was now searching for her.

"Why would he want to continue with the Professor's work? Especially after what happened to his father? Also, I thought Derek never married, and that he pined away for Agnes all these years," Hermione said. Draco sat down on the bed, and pulled her down as well.

"I hate to break this to you, I know it will spoil your storybook view on the world," Draco began, "but a person doesn't have to be married to have children. There, I said it. It's a horrible truth, but it was high time someone told you," he joked.

Hermione pouted and said, "Next, you'll tell me that Father Christmas isn't real, and that there is no tooth fairy."

"Father Christmas, fake, but the tooth fairy, well, I'm pretty certain Ron Weasley and the tooth fairy might be one and the same," Draco said with certainty.

"Ha!" she expounded. "I hope Pippin will be okay," she finally said, putting her head on his shoulder.

"Ginny Weasley came and got him for me. I was worried for the little guy too, and I had no idea how long you'd be gone. Now, I'm glad I did. I have no idea how long either of us will be gone," Draco concluded.

"Draco, if Derek had given you the spell to return my magic, would you have used it?" she asked. He sat back against the headboard, pulling her to him.

"No, I wouldn't. You would have forgotten all about me, us, and everything. I really think I would rather take the professor's advice, and live with you as a Muggle," he said sincerely.

"Do I have a say?" she asked.

He honestly hadn't thought of that, but of course, it would be her decision, but it didn't matter, since he didn't know the spell. "What would you have wanted?" he finally asked her.

"I wouldn't have wanted to forget you or us. I wouldn't have let you use it. I've learned over the last few weeks, that magic isn't all there is in this life," she concluded. She put her hand on his chest, watching it rise and fall with each breath. She said, "This, you, your heart beating and you breathing, for me, that's what's important."

"I'm glad we agree," he said simply.

"Derek still has no idea how Agnes went into her coma, huh?" Hermione asked. It was still worrying her.

"No, I guess not," he said. "It's not happening to you, so don't worry. I still think it happened when the professor tried to Oblivate her memory, especially if she was using her telepathic powers, and was trying to block the spell."

That made sense to Hermione. She stood up from the bed and said, "I have to go the bathroom, but I have yet to find one here." She laughed.

"It's the woods for you, Granger!" he declared.

"I can't go in the woods!" she said, affronted. "I have to do more than urinate."

He laughed, slapped his thigh, and said, "Urinate? Gee Granger, I didn't know you did more than 'urinate'. My picture of you as the perfect little princess is shattered to the very core now." He climbed off the bed to stand next to her.

"Draco, shut up!" she said, her face bright scarlet. He was still laughing and she uttered, "I won't make this mistake again. Draco's too immature to discuss bodily functions." She sat down at the wooden table, and put her chin in her hands.

"Are you going to do your business right there?" he laughed at her.

"NO!" she glared. "I guess I'll have to hold it!"

He said, "You might burst. I'll take care of this." He went to a small closet, took a teacup, transfigured it to a chamber pot, and put it in the closet. He transfigured a towel into toilet paper. He was still laughing as he said, "Your chamber pot awaits, my dear lady."

"I'm not going on a chamber pot!" she laughed. She couldn't help herself. She doubled over in laughter.

"Well, forgive me if my magic is limited, and I can provide you with plumbing!" he said. "It's this or nothing."

"Go outside," she said.

"I made you a nice little Water Closet out of the closet, so you'll have privacy," he reasoned. He looked around the room, found an old tattered book and said, "Here's some reading material."

"Draco, get out!" She smiled. She pushed him through the door. "I'm embarrassed enough as it is!"

He whipped around, grabbed her arms, and with his face very close to hers he said, "Granger, why are you embarrassed? Everyone poops!"

"OH my goodness, get the fuck out of here!" she screamed with a smile on her face.

"Everyone fucks, too," Draco laughed.

"OUT!" She continued to push him out the door. He finally left the cottage, and stood outside.

After a while, he let himself in. She was washing her hands at the old pump that was at the sink.

"It took you long enough, what's the matter, not enough roughage in your diet? Do you need more bran?" Draco asked.

"If you ever mention this again, I will die of mortification! NO, I will kill you, than I will die! No, I will just kill you," she said. She splashed water at him.

"Oh, I intend to mention it again, I really do. I'm going to tell everyone I know all about this. Shall I take my wand and clean things up, or would that embarrass you too much?" he asked.

"I wish I had my magic," she said sadly, sitting at the table.

"I wish you did, too," he said, no longer joking. She smiled at him. Just then, a little gray mouse ran across the floor. Draco shrieked, and stood up on the chair, as Hermione laughed at him.

"Okay, we're even, for I know you won't ever relay my embarrassing story, because if you do, I'll have to tell everyone that Draco Malfoy was afraid of a mouse!" Hermione laughed in delight.

Draco glared at her and said, "Fine, blackmail me if you must." He climbed off the chair and pulled her to him. "Seriously, I love you, and I'll always make a place for you to poop."

She sighed, with spite, and said, "And I'll always laugh at the fact that you, a former Death Eater, is afraid of a little mouse."


	24. Raindrops, Tears, and Lies

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 24 – Raindrops, Tears, and Lies:**

There was a shutter banging against the stone cottage, bang, bang, bang. The room was dark except for the soft orange light emanating from the chimney fire. The rain could be heard on the slate roof, and evidence of the rain was entering from a hole in the ceiling in the form of a leak, whose noise matched the rhythm of the banging shutter. The water's soft pitter-pat was less comforting than the noise of Draco's easy breathing, in and out, in and out, as he slept on the bed, beside the woman he loved, who was wide awake.

The whole scene around Hermione was portentous, almost like something out of a gothic novel, or an old movie, and Hermione could almost hear the crescendo of the background music, if this had indeed been a scene out of a movie, building as each moment became more ominous. With increased irritation, and foreboding, Hermione was close to screaming. What were they doing here? Why did everything turn out so wrong? They could be home in her little flat, tucked safely in her little alcove, with no leaks in the ceiling, no banging shutters, proper heat, and above all else, indoor plumbing. Hermione stayed propped up on her side, and wondered how Draco could manage to sleep under such conditions. After that year on the run with Harry and Ron, Hermione made a vow never to spend another night uncomfortable, cold, or afraid, and yet, here she was all three.

She climbed over his body, and padded to the window. She looked out at the storm. Yes, the storm made everything perfect did it not. To top off everything else, Hermione had to go to the bathroom again. She tiptoed over to the closet, but didn't close the door, so she would have a little light to see.

She went back over to the bed, and stood and watched him. He remained sleeping, breathing steadily. This wasn't fair to him. He shouldn't have to go through all of this. She took one of the blankets off the bed, and went toward the front door. She looked back at him once, and then walked outside, wrapped in the blanket.

She stood under the eaves of the house, which offered little covering. She started to cry, more out of frustration, than anything else. She leaned against the stone wall and slid down to the ground. She huddled against the wall, the rain lapping at her face, and she rocked back and forth and cried. Damn her magic, she just wanted to live, to love, to have a future.

Draco woke up, and turned to his side, reaching out for her. She wasn't there. He sat up suddenly, and lit the lantern that was on the little wooden table with his wand. Wand still in hand, he looked around the little room, but shortly he noticed the front door was slightly ajar. He walked up quietly, less there was danger lurking beyond his reach. He glanced out the opening, and saw her in a heap on the ground, the rain evident as her body bore the scars of the inclement weather. He ached for her. His heart hurt seeing her so broken and sad.

Opening the door wider, so she would know he was there, he took two steps outside, the rain beating against his face.

"Hermione, what are you doing out here? It isn't safe, or dry, come inside," he begged.

Either she chose to ignore him, or she was beyond reasoning. She remained on the ground, as cries racked her body. He would not say her name again. He reached down for her, but she stood so suddenly, that he was caught unaware, and he fell to the ground. She ran from him, crying harder still. He stood and followed, and he caught her quickly.

They stood together on the moors, covered in bracken, moss, and high grass, the rain threatening to drown them both. He grabbed her arms so tightly that his fingers indented her arms. He shook her hard, and yelled her name again, "HERMIONE!" What was wrong with her?

He shook her, and she hit his chest. "Let me go, it's hopeless!"

"What's wrong with you?" he asked perturbed. He didn't have the patience to deal with a hysterical woman, especially a hysterical Granger, which he thought that was indeed a paradox.

Should he slap her? He wanted to, he wanted to slap her very much and very hard. The problem was, she might slap him back, and he knew from experience not to underestimate the power of her arm. Perhaps he could reason with her.

"STOP IT!" he yelled. "Stop it right now!" He shook her harder. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm angry, Draco!" she yelled back. "I'm angry, I'm furious, I'm incensed! Let me be angry if I want to be!"

"You're crying in the middle of the night, in the rain, out in the open, with the threat of lightning, because you're angry?" he asked, his voice loud so she could hear over the rain and tears.

"YES!"

"OKAY!" he shouted back. He turned and walked away from her. He would leave her alone, out in the rain, in the dark, In the dead of night, while someone was trying to kill her, because she was angry. Everyone had the right to be angry. He spent most of his life angry.

He walked back over to the cottage, and sat down in her abandoned spot under the eaves, wand in hand, so she could be angry in peace. She looked out over the moors and continued to cry for another twenty minutes. She was soaked to the bone. Her tears blended with the rain. She cried because she was upset, angry and confused. Draco was all of those things as well, but she was angry enough for the both of them. He knew she was afraid as well as angry. He could barely make out her figure as the rain dimmed his vision, and the night impaired his view.

She finally walked right past him, right past his outstretched arms, which longed to hold her tight, comfort her, and love her. She walked into the cottage, and he followed suit, and shut and locked the door with magic. He wanted assurance that no one entered, and no one left. He knew it was unfair to use magic against her, but at this point, he didn't care.

She sat by the fireplace and stoked the dying embers with the poker. He pointed his wand, and the fire came back to life. She threw the soaked blanket on the floor, and began to wring out her wet hair. He stood by her and watched all of this in silence. Again, without her permission, he crossed the room, dried the blanket that was on the floor, dried her clothes with magic, performed a drying spell on himself, but decided to keep her hair wet…to teach her a lesson of sorts. Perhaps she would catch a cold. It would serve her right, and it might do her some good. He picked up the blanket, threw it to her, turned around and climbed back in the bed. He turned to his side, his back facing her, and he shut his eyes. He had no real intention of falling asleep; he just wanted her to think he was. He really wanted to stay awake in case she needed him again. She didn't have to know that.

After many tense moments, well, tense for him, perhaps not for her, she followed him to bed. She crawled over this body, carefully, apparently believing his subterfuge. She huddled into another ball, on the end of the bed, by his feet, with the dry blanket wrapped tightly around her. She sighed, sniffed, and shivered.

The banging shutter and the drip of the leak in the ceiling were in sync with the beating of her heart now, luring her to sleep. She drifted in and out, and before sleep completely overtook her, she softly said, "Thank you."

He waited for the steady sounds of her breathing to tell him that she was finally asleep, and when he was certain she was in slumber, he sat up, shifted her toward him, placed the covers over them both, and held her tightly in his arms, against his chest.

He kissed the top of her head and spoke in an almost inaudible whisper, "You're welcome. I will always be here to take care of you." Though he thought she slept, she heard him.

When dawn finally approached the cottage, Draco was already up and awake. Hermione shifted in the bed, and opened her eyes. It was freezing in the cabin, and she self-consciously shivered and moaned. He had a cup of coffee in one hand, and he handed it to her. She sat up, took a drink and said, "We can't stay here, you know."

He took the cup back from her, and sat down on the bed. "I was thinking the same thing. I'm not sure Derek Grayson should be trusted. He's done nothing to help us, so why would he help us all of the sudden. And if there was someone after you, why are you safer here than in your own home, at my house, or with Potter. I was a fool, I shouldn't have come here."

"If you hadn't come, I'd be all alone, and I'd still be constipated," she joked.

"Are you back? Please, tell me you're back," he prodded.

"Back? What do you mean?" Hermione questioned.

"I just want to know if the girl I love is back to normal, because that screaming, crying, lunatic, from last night was not very attractive, I'll tell you," Draco said, taking another drink of coffee.

"You've had unattractive moments in your life, I know for a fact," Hermione said with a smirk.

"Never." He acted shocked. "The lovable Draco you see here is the way I have always presented myself."

Hermione couldn't contain her grin, and she said, "If we had a few hours, I could refute those claims, but I think we have to get out of here first, and discredit your reputation later." She stood up and put her shoes on.

He still had the pendant and he said, "I don't know whether to trust this portkey or not. They don't always take you back to where you started," he said.

"We could apparate," she reminded him when she finished with her shoes. "Well, you could apparate, and I'll come along for the ride."

"I've already tried this morning. There must be an anti-apparition shield around this cabin and the area around it as well. I walked a good kilometer away," he said. Hermione could tell that he was worried.

"We go by foot, that's all there is to it," Hermione said. She headed toward the Water Closet. "Just let me use the facilities first. You pack up whatever we might need from this place. Once we're far enough away, perhaps we can apparate." She went in the little closet, shut the door, opened it back up and said, "Light, please." He lit the lantern again, and handed it to her.

He didn't like the idea of going out on foot, but there was no other choice. He was not going to stay around here, and be a sitting duck for anyone. He got Hermione in this mess and he would get her out of it. He didn't even know if they were still in England, but by the look of the countryside, he would imagine they were. He found an old rucksack, shrunk down provisions, blankets, can goods, the other lantern, etc. When she came out of the 'bathroom' he said, "Shall I pack the chamber pot?" He was smiling.

"It actually wouldn't be a bad idea, but I suppose not, travel light, and all that," she said, washing her hands.

"Off we go, Granger, into the wild unknown," he said. He put the rucksack over his shoulder, handed his coat to her, which she gladly accepted, and took her hand. They walked hand and hand out of the cabin, into what Draco referred to as the 'wild unknown'.

In the meantime, Harry Potter hadn't gotten any sleep at all last night. It was already dawn and he was buried in his work. He had a frustrating night indeed. He found it interesting that Derek Grayson turned himself in for killing Marcus Flint, when Marcus Flint had just turned himself in for killing a man named James Patterson. He was going to arrest Marcus this morning anyway, for the attempted murder of Hermione, so it was just as well that he turned himself in.

The curious thing about Derek Grayson was that Harry Potter found out some surprising truths about the man, truths he knew the man hadn't shared with Draco, and maybe not with anyone. Draco had told Harry everything that Derek had told him, and Harry knew the man had lied to Draco, but he didn't know why. Harry was very anxious to find out the truth. He also wondered where Draco and Hermione were. Draco was at the Ministry one moment, talking to Grayson, and then he disappeared. Half of the Aurors in Harry's office were looking for Draco and Hermione.

He knew Derek was protecting someone; he just had a feeling about it. He just didn't know how to siphon through the lies, to uncover the truth, but if there was one thing Harry Potter was good at, it was uncovering the truth.


	25. Hermione Wants to Know the Future

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 25- Hermione Wants to Know the Future:**

As Draco and Hermione walked away from the cottage, Draco tried to hide the fact that he was nervous. He was not exaggerating when he told Hermione he had walked at least a kilometer away that morning, and was still unable to apparate. However, that was just a part of what was worrying him. He was worried that he had made a terrible mistake trusting Derek, and that now he might not be able to get Hermione away from here safely. He was worried that something sinister was afoot, and he was determined to keep her safe.

It was the middle of October, it had become colder, and the morning sky was grey. There was a fine mist in the air, almost as if the sky could not make up its mind on whether it wanted to rain or not, so instead, it decided to torture them with a fine mist. The path was laden with mud from last night's storm. Draco was leading the way, his wand in front of them, and he grasped her hand as she followed behind. He looked back at her at the exact moment that she slipped on the muddy path.

He let go of her hand, not out of choice, but so he wouldn't fall down as well. He bent to pick her up and said, "You are rather clumsy this morning, aren't you, Granger?"

She stood up, wiped her muddy hands on HIS slacks, and said, "I'm rather clumsy every morning, Malfoy, where have you been?"

He took his wand and cleaned his pants, and he gently took one of her hands, pointed his wand at it, then the other, to clean them better. He cleaned her knees and said, "I don't have a lot of morning experience with you yet. It's something I'm looking forward to, though." He kept one of her clean hands in his, and continued his walk.

She was still bringing up the rear, slipping every so often, but recovering nicely, when she suddenly said, "What do you want out of this relationship, Draco?"

Right now, he just wanted a safe place to rest, and maybe some hot food. He looked back at her and said, "It's a little early in our 'budding' relationship to have that discussion, isn't it?" He had not given 'their future' much thought. Hermione stopped walking, which forced him to turn and look at her. When he did not respond to her glare, one way or another, she made to move past him on the path, walking ahead of him.

"What, Granger? What do you want me to say?" he asked, now bringing up the rear.

Without looking at him, she said, "You don't have to say anything, I shouldn't have asked, I know it's hard for you to admit your feelings." She did not say it with spite, or sadness, but more as a statement of fact.

"You can't say such general things about me, especially when they aren't true," he said, grabbing her arm, to turn her around to face him. She turned around, but instead of looking at him, she was looking over his shoulder. "Granger, at least look at me when I'm about to call you out of something," he said.

"Draco, look," she said with fear. She pointed at something behind him. He turned around. Black smoke came mushrooming above the tall trees, from the direction of the cabin.

He turned back to her and said, "Stay here. I mean it, don't even move a muscle." He ran back toward the little stone cabin. They had not traveled far so he reached it in no time. The whole building was aflame, which Draco found curious, as it was made up mostly of stone, mortar, and shale. The fire must have started within.

Hermione ran back toward him, thinking the same thing, and she said, "Did you forget to put out the fire in the fireplace?"

"What part of 'stay there and don't move a muscle' is too difficult for you to understand?" he asked. He turned back around to look at the house, just as it blew up right before their eyes.

As the house exploded, Draco instinctively threw his body over hers, pushing her to the ground. Burning timber and cinders from the fire flew all around them, burning their exposed skin. He continued to cover both of their heads with his arms. He finally looked back up, and then to her. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, you?" she asked back.

"I think so." He stood up and offered her a hand.

"We could have been in there, Draco!" she said, taking a step toward the burning wreckage.

"I know, Hermione, I know!" He was sure they were supposed to be in there. He pulled her back. He took the explosion as a sign that they needed to get out of there, quickly. He started to pull her away, and he looked back once more at her and said, "Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded yes. He started to run, her hand still in his, sloshing their way through the mud.

They ran until they were out of breath. They were deeper in the woods, and could no longer see the black smoke from the burning cottage in the sky. When they stopped, he bent at his waist, hands on his legs, and he cursed loudly. "Dammit all to bloody hell! I feel like killing someone!" He took his wand and blew a bush to bits.

"It's not the fault of that bush," Hermione said. He glared at her, thinking she was trying to be funny, but she looked dead serious.

"Listen, Miss Granger, I let you have your anger last night, let me kill a bush this morning if I want to!" he said, enraged.

"Fine, kill a bush. Over there is an offensive looking shrub. How about that tree right there," she continued, pointing, "I bet there's a family of field mice living under the roots. You hate mice, kill them as well."

He made an unintelligible noise, took her arm and said, "Let's get out of here." He successfully apparated them back to her apartment.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Meanwhile, back at the Ministry, Harry Potter had a problem. His supervisor decided to let Derek Grayson go free. He told Harry that Derek was a sad, delusional, old man, and since he confessed to killing a man named James Patterson, who someone else also confessed to killing, and since there was no proof that Derek was guilty, there was no reason to hold the old man any longer.

Harry argued that he might have something to do with the disappearance of Draco Malfoy, and the kidnapping of Hermione Granger. His supervisor told him that since Harry himself witnessed the fact that Draco was talking to the man just minutes before the man turned himself in, that he could not possibly have anything to do with his disappearance, and that Marcus Flint admitted to kidnapping Hermione Granger.

Harry would not be deterred. He did not tell his supervisor everything he had learned about the man. Perhaps it was better if the man did go free. That way, Harry could monitor the man's movements with more ease.

Harry went to the interrogation room to talk with Marcus Flint, who had his head in his hands. "How are Draco and Hermione?" he asked Harry. "Are they angry with me?"

"I'll tell you everything later, but you must tell me everything you know first, Flint," Harry requested.

"I got in a lot of trouble, gambling debts. I found out Professor Dewey's estate was finally for sale. The old bastard died ten years ago, and they were waiting for an heir to surface, because he had a son, but when no one came to claim the place, we were able to buy it."

"Cut to the parts I don't know," Harry said crassly.

"I lied to Malfoy. I didn't tell him that I had already found a buyer for most of the professor's belongings. The buyer was Derek Grayson. He told me that he went to the school, when he was young, and he wanted to buy all the items, to destroy them. He offered an absorbent amount of money. His agent, acting on his behalf, was James Patterson. James had another idea. He offered even more money if we would sell the items to him, and tell the old codger that we couldn't sell to him."

"That's where Hermione came in. James Patterson wanted proof that the professor's means to remove magic still worked. It was the only thing I could think of at the time, since Malfoy suggested we have curse breakers look at the items. I arranged to meet with her, and I was going to have her open one of the cursed books, lose her magic, and prove to this man that the items still worked."

"WHY? What did she ever do to you?" Harry yelled.

"I know, it's wrong, and I regret it. I have come to care for her, and I know Malfoy loves her. I mean, she came and visited me in hospital, when no one else did. I tried to call Patterson off. I know you think I tried to kill Hermione with the collapsing school, but that was Patterson. I didn't know he was going to do that, by the way. He told me about it later. He said we didn't need anyone around who could be a 'test subject', in case the Ministry wanted to examine her."

"How did he know about Agnes Abernathy, to put her name on the chalkboard?" Harry asked.

"He told me he had nothing to do with that. Listen, I just wanted to give the man his money back, but he decided he wanted Granger, not his money. He said the Ministry ruined everything, and there was nothing left for him, since the Ministry seized the property, and the Weasleys removed all the dark magic. He said he needed Granger to find out the methods the Professor used. Therefore, he wanted her, and he wanted me to help. I went to Derek Grayson, told him that James was duplicitous, and that he wanted to kidnap Hermione. He agreed to take James to Agnes, so that James could examine her instead, to find if there was any trace magic, or any residue at all, that might tell him how the professor removed her magic, but he ended up killing her."

"He killed Agnes Abernathy?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Yes, ask Grayson, he'll tell you. Grayson was the one who convinced me to kidnap Hermione, but not for James, but to keep her safe from James. I had no idea James would show up at the cottage on the Professor's estate. He was supposed to meet me later. We were dueling when Derek showed up."

"Grayson claims he killed James Patterson," Harry stated.

Marcus shook his head. "No, I'm guilty of that, I'm afraid to say," Marcus said, "Although, if it will keep Hermione safe, it's worth it. Why would he say he killed him?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't matter, the Ministry let him go. I think he took Hermione. Was Hermione still at the cottage right after you killed James?" Harry asked.

"OH NO!" Marcus exclaimed, "Grayson told me to run for it, and at first I did, because I was afraid, but I came back. He said he would see that Hermione was taken back to Draco, safe and sound. Why, did he not take Hermione back?"

"Not only that, but Malfoy's missing now, too. He was talking to Grayson, right before he turned himself in, and then Draco seemed to disappear. Grayson also told me that James Patterson was his son."

"He wasn't, of that I'm sure. Why would he tell you that? More important, why would Derek Grayson want to kidnap Hermione and Draco?" Marcus asked.

"I don't know, but I know one thing for sure, everything he told Draco Malfoy, about being at the school, and the professor assuming he was a Muggle-born, was lies. Derek Grayson was Nathaniel Dewey's son," Harry said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione looked around her little flat and said, "Are you sure we're safe here?"

"Your wards should work, but I'll put up some more protection. Marcus Flint was able to enter, because you trusted him, and allowed him in. Maybe that will teach you not to trust all these men, Granger," Draco scolded. He walked around the small apartment, his wand in the air, casting all sorts of protection charms.

"I'm off to the bath," Hermione stated.

"Why do you get to shower first?" Draco asked, lowering his wand.

"It's my house," she said, stripping her shirt, and slacks right in front of him.

He smirked and said, "You could share," and he walked up to her.

"I could, but since you can't tell me where you want this relationship to go, I don't think I will," she laughed. She threw her bra at him, and it landed on his shoulder.

He gave her a lascivious look, and stared at her bare breasts. She bent down, removed her panties, and threw them at him as well. He caught them in his hand. "We will discuss our future later; I want to know about the present," he said. He dropped her underwear, and threw her bra on the floor. He rushed up to her, as she ran to the bathroom. His hand skimmed the bare skin of her back as she ran away quickly. She slammed the door shut and he stood outside. "Fine, I would rather make love to a nice, squeaky clean, Granger, than a dirty one anyway!" He continued walking around her apartment, to check her wards.

He turned back toward the bathroom, and noticed she had opened the door. Well, well, she was a funny little thing. Was this her way of inviting him in? He took off his shirt, his shoes, and his slacks, and opened the door to the fog-filled room.

She was in the shower. He could see her body outlined behind the shower curtain. He said, "Granger, do you need any help in there?"

"Not really, Draco, why?" she asked, moving the curtain aside, and wiping the shampoo out of her eyes. "Are you going to tell me what you want out of this relationship?"

She was merciless. He said, "Right now, I want sex. Actually, that can be my answer to what I want out of the future, as well." She frowned and moved the shower curtain back in place.

He removed his shorts, and climbed in the tub. Her back was to him, as she was facing the spray of water from the showerhead. He knew she knew he had joined her. He took the soap, and began to wash. He figured he might as well kill two birds with one stone. As he was washing, he said, "What do you want out of this relationship? If you can tell me an honest answer, maybe I can muster the courage to tell you."

She turned around, dropping her razor. "The courage?" she asked. "Why does it take courage to tell me what you want?"

He bent down, and picked up her razor. He said, "Here I am, exposed to you, literally and figuratively. You don't think that takes courage?"

"I love you, Draco, and you know what, that's enough for now. Hell, we don't even know what the future will hold. If I don't get my magic back, which with every passing day, I am beginning to doubt will happen, then I don't see us together."

Her truthfulness shocked him. He almost forgot they were standing completely naked, in her tub, with hot water splashing their bodies. "Why would you say that? That has nothing to do with anything!" He was suddenly angry. He pushed her aside, rinsed off his body, and threw open the curtain. He grabbed a towel, and stormed off to the other room. He sat on her bed.

A few moments later, she walked out. "Better I say it, than you, don't you think?" She sat beside him on the bed, a towel around her wet body.

"I wouldn't have said that," he pointed out.

"Why don't you want to talk about the future, if it's not because you're uncertain about it?" Hermione asked.

Draco fell back on the bed, his feet still firmly on the floor. "I don't want to talk about the future, because all of this seems too good to last. I'm afraid if I talk about it, it will make it go away. Please, just stop asking me about the future, but also, stop underestimating me and my feelings."

"It's hard to do one, without doing the other," she admitted. She leaned on her side, and put her hand on his wet chest. She leaned down and kissed his mouth, long and languidly. "I know what I want from the future, magic or not, but I was too afraid to say before. Shall I tell you now?" she asked.

He looked up into her liquid brown eyes, and with a lump in his throat, he said, "Yes."

She put her hand on his cheek, bringing her index finger down to his chin. "I only see myself with you. That's all I've wanted since I met you in the café that first day I came to talk with you about the tapestry. There, I said it, it's out there, and no worries if you don't return my feelings in kind."

He returned her feelings; he just didn't expound them as she did. He had wanted her since before the day in the café. "You are so odd," he said. He thought it so frequently, that he couldn't help but say it. He sat up so unexpectedly, she was taken aback. He pushed her shoulder, so she was on her back in an instant. He said, "Now, we are going to make love, and nothing is going to stop us."


	26. Making Love and Cruelty

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 26 - Making Love and Cruelty:**

Hermione grinned when Draco said that they were going to make love, and no one was going to stop them. She said, "Do you realize we've only had sex twice. That's scandalous."

"Especially for a scarlet woman like you," he said. "Not that I'm judging. I'm not a prude or anything."

"Of course not," she said. "I don't think anyone would ever call you a prude, Malfoy. If anything, you are the antithesis of a prude."

He sat back up, and so did she. He reached for the corner of her towel, which was tucked neatly under itself, around her breasts. He pulled the towel loose, and it fell away. He stood up, and brought her to a standing position. "You're still wet," he said plainly, stating the evident.

She glistened, as the soft light of the noonday sun shined in her window, shimmering on the water that beaded on her body. He took a deep breath, expelled it slowly, and reached out for her breasts. He cupped her right breast lightly, his thumb on the nipple, moving back and forth.

His mouth descended on hers, softly, mutely, playing with it, teasing it. Her arms came up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Her right hand traveled lightly over the planes of his body, down his muscled arm, to his rugged chest, to his hard abdomen. She found the knot in his towel, which rested above his hips. She tugged lightly, and it fell away, joining her towel on the floor. Her hands went to him, stroking his length, playing with the ridges of his hard shaft, fingering his tip. He bit his bottom lip and looked up to the ceiling. He let out a gurgled sigh, and looked back at her. Her head bent down, as she watched in fascination with her own ministrations. He took her wrist, and brought her hand up.

"Oh, Hermione, you make me want to die," he said.

"Don't die." She grinned.

"If I die, all I can say is, what a way to die." He leaned forward, capturing her lips once more. He pushed up against the edge of the bed, bringing her down slowly, his hands on her wrists, his mouth not leaving hers.

He lowered her to the bed, and kneeled beside her body. She closed her eyes. He said, "Open your eyes, Hermione, I want to see you." She opened her eyes, as he continued to kneel beside her body. His right hand traveled softly down her side, around her breast, down her ribcage, to her hip. He bent at the waist, and soon his mouth traveled the same trek his hand had just forged.

Both his hands were on her hips, as his mouth kissed her lower abdomen. He lay beside her, and took her left nipple in his mouth. He licked it with his tongue, only to come back and nip at it lightly. His hand moved calmly over her stomach, stopping at her apex, as he sought her warmth.

"Draco, I love you," she said. She meant it. She was not just caught up in the moment.

He looked at her attentively, and she looked back at him. He kissed her mouth again and as his lips traveled from her mouth, down her jaw, to her ear, he said, "I love you, too, my only love. Shut your eyes now, and enjoy." His fingers plunged in her and she sighed. She shut her eyes. He watched her face as his thumb pressed on her opening, and his first two fingers dipped in the deep cleft.

He put his lips to her mouth again, as his hand brought her to an upsurge of release. He loved her more than he ever thought he could love a woman. How odd. He always thought she was the odd one, but he finally realized, he was the one that was odd, because never in his life had he loved anyone the way he loved her, and he never cared to love anyone before, but he cared now, and that was indeed odd. His mouth continued its assault on her breasts, as he removed his hand from her core. He brought his mouth down her body, leaving marks from wet kisses, gentle bites, and long licks. He placed his moist mouth at her wet opening and pushed her legs far apart.

She was breathing so hard, he willed her in his mind to calm down, and somehow, she did. He had to admit, he had never been fond of this type of lovemaking, because, being a selfish person, he never really got anything out of it. He would oblige his other partners, but only because there was always something in it for him. For the first time in his pitiful existence, he did this for her, which was his reward. It was better than he imagined.

She tried to clench her legs together, and with one hand on her stomach, he felt the tide of her orgasm begin, by the trembling of her legs, and the quivering of her abdominal muscles. He climbed up her body, and he entered her so slowly, she thought she was being tortured.

He situated his arms at each side of her body, arched his back, and withdrew from her, to enter her again, slowly, so slowly. She winced, and he was biting his lower lip so hard, he almost drew blood. He again left her almost completely, finally to plunge in hard and complete. She was so tight and ready that he was about to explode. She rocked her hips against his pelvis, arching her back to meet each thrust. When she thought she could not hold off any longer, he left her again, because he wanted it to last longer.

"Damn, Draco," she expelled. Hermione was through playing. She hit his shoulder hard, and knocked him to his side. She forced him on his back, and climbed on top. Her antics would have amused him, if he weren't so aroused. Once she was on top, and in control, he lost his ability to function and think. He started to come, and so did she. She rocked back and forth, yelling and screaming, matching his vocal offerings to the letter. She leaned back as far as she could, her hands on his knees, supporting her weight, and his hips came almost completely off the bed, although how he could support them both, and with what, in that position, she would never know.

Finally, she bent over him, to ride out the rest of their completion. He turned them back over, and he decided he wasn't done. She was sore, and as complete as she thought she could be, but he declared a victory when he seemed to bring renewed vigor to them both, and they both climaxed a second time, or maybe it was just the end of their first.

No matter, for he collapsed on the bed, on his stomach, by her side. She had to roll on her side, knees bent up near her belly, for she actually ached and she needed to calm down and compose herself. His arm went over her protectively, and when he lifted his head, to look at her face, and saw her so small and weak, shivering beside him, he knew that she was never ever going to leave him, not if he had anything to say about it. He already knew he would never leave her, so that was not even an option.

He pulled her closer, turned to his side, and put a protective leg over her. He reached down, and pulled a throw that was on the end of her bed over them both.

She shifted in his arms, so she was facing the other way, his arm still around her waist, his cheek next to hers. He kissed her neck, her ear, and her face. He whispered in her ear, "I love you, too."

Did she say she loved him a second time for him to respond with the 'too'? She wasn't sure, but she did love him, so that was fine. Hermione said, "I won't be able to walk for a week. I may never recover."

"That was just the preview too, so I hope you're kidding, and are a fast healer. I've already recovered," he said and he laughed.

"You're younger than I," she laughed back.

He pulled her face toward his, and kissed her lips. "I love you so much, Granger, I really truly do. What would I do if I had not met you again? Where would I be?"

"Rich and miserable, I presume," she said. She turned to her back. She put her hand on his face.

"I'm still rich, don't forget. Also, don't ever forget how much I love you," he said.

"I could never forget that, or the fact that you're rich. That's the only reason I love you." She grinned, and said, "Really, don't you forget how much I love you either." She smiled so brightly at him, that he believed her. She would never forget his love, and he would never forget hers. "We need to get another shower, I fear, and then we really need to let Harry know we're okay," Hermione declared, sitting up.

"You are such a little liar," he said, sitting as well.

"What?" she asked shocked and hurt. "When have I lied? I've never lied to you."

"You said you wouldn't recover from my sexual offerings, but here you are, recovering nicely, and thinking of other things, no, other men, I should say. Potter, no less." Draco made a sick looking face, and pulled her hair. She ignored him and climbed off the bed.

They showered, again, dressed, and ate a late lunch, before they contacted Harry. He was thrilled they were all right. He told them to stay at Hermione's flat, not to contact anyone else, and not to let anyone in, until he arrived. He told them that he had a lot of news.

They sat in the middle of her floor, much as they sat in her room in Hogsmeade, at the inn. They had parchments and papers all around them again. "What do you really make of Grayson?" Hermione suddenly asked.

"I think he's a liar. I think he has been mendacious and devious. I don't trust him. I think he wanted to kill us both back at the cottage. I'm not even sure he loved Agnes Abernathy," Draco said, adding, "and I don't know why he's done any of the things he's done."

"He seemed in genuine mourning at her graveside," Hermione reminded him. "And look," she said, holding up a picture, "I still have a photo of them together. It's from when she woke up when she was sixteen. They look like they loved each other."

"They're embracing and smiling at the camera. That's not necessarily love, Hermione. She probably didn't even remember him when that picture was taken, and they weren't in love back when they were children, because children can't really be in love. That's fake love in that picture, I tell you. I could fake love, hell, I have faked love before," he said.

"And you won't ever do that again, right," she asked sheepishly.

"I'm doing it right now," he said, sarcastically. "Look at me, I'm faking. I don't love you, but you believe me, don't you."

She studied him for a moment and said, "No, actually, you don't particularly look like you're in love." He jumped from his place on the floor and tackled her.

"I'm in love, Granger, say it, say it!" he declared, tickling her ribs, and holding her down.

"STOP!" she screamed.

"Say it!" He continued to tickle her.

"I hate being tickled!" she screamed. "You love me, you love me!" she finally yelled.

He pulled her toward him, falling on his back on the floor, her on top of him. "Say it again, or I'll torture you some more," he threatened. He rolled them over, so he was on top of her once more.

"Please, don't tickle me again. That's why I broke up with Ron, he wouldn't stop tickling me," she said, breathing hard.

"Seriously?" he asked, confused.

"Well, no, but it was something that always bothered me about him. I would beg him not to do it, but he used to do it all the time anyway. I thought it was borderline cruelty, his way to show his dominance over me," Hermione said.

"Do you think I'm cruel?" he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"If you had a mustache to twirl I'm sure that you would, you are that cruel," she said.

He laughed. "I've always thought that I was cruel as well. It's one of my stronger qualities, but if it bothers you, I won't tickle you again, besides, I'm always slightly afraid of you." He bent his head and kissed her.

"You're bigger than I, what could I do?" she asked.

He thought for a moment. He was not going to make a mistake and say something about how she was so much better at magic than he was, and that she could curse his arse to kingdom come, because he didn't want to mention magic. Therefore, he said, "You're so much smarter than I; you could think of a million ways to get back at me, before I was even aware of what was happening."

She put her hand in his hair, and stroked it lightly. She said, "True, I am smarter than you." She twisted her hand in his hair, causing actual pain.

He yelped and said, "Let go, you old hag!" He was so tempted to tickle her again, which would force her to let go, but he really didn't want to do anything that would compare him to Weasel, so he said, "I love you, please, unhand my beautiful hair!"

She laughed and let him go. He put his hand in his hair, and said, "My hair is also one of my better qualities, so please, be kind."

She sat back up and said, "You will probably go bald someday."

He looked shocked. "Why would you say that?"

"I don't know, it's just seems like men with gorgeous hair when they're young, usually lose it. I think I read that in a book, somewhere, actually," she said, trying hard to suppress her smile, as she picked up another piece of parchment.

"Now who's twirling their mustache?" Draco asked. "You're the cruel one!"

"No, I'm playing mind games with you, which, I guess in your case, in somewhat cruel," she teased.

He sighed and stood up. Just then, an owl appeared at her window. He walked over to the window, and opened it to admit the bird. He removed a letter from its leg. "Granger, do you know to whom this owl belongs?"

"No idea, my dear Draco, read the letter and find out," she instructed, standing up beside him. He opened the letter, and the bird flew out. She closed the window and asked, "Well, who's it from?"

"Derek Grayson," Draco said with fury. Hermione looked shocked.

"What does it say?" she asked.

Draco was seething with anger. He took the letter, squashed it in his hand, and said, "Stay here, and I mean it! Don't try to follow me; don't let anyone, not even Harry Potter, in your house!"

He walked over and put on his jacket.

"What does the letter say, Draco!" she asked. She pulled on his sleeve.

He checked for his wand, and said, "I'll be back."

"NO! It's a trap or something. Remember, Harry said we are not to leave until he comes! Anyway, if you go, I'm coming with you!" she urged. She turned to get her jacket. He was right behind her, and he took her jacket out of her hands. He literally picked her up, and put her in her bathroom. He shut the door, and locked it with magic. She banged on the door and screamed, "Please, Draco, don't go meet that man! Please!"

"I'll return, just stay here!" He knew she had no choice now, since he locked her in the bathroom.

He was going to meet Derek Grayson, and end all of this for the last time.


	27. Draco and Derek Showdown

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 27 – Draco and Derek Showdown:**

Hermione screamed until she lost her voice. Certainly some of her Muggle neighbours had heard her. Finally, she decided to break the window, although it was small, and she would try to shimmy out of it, in hope that she could stop Draco, though she had no idea how to do that.

She took a wooden hairbrush and stood on top of the commode lid, and banged on the frosted glass of the small window. After the third bang, it finally broke. She pushed at the broken glass, and ran a shard right into her hand. She cried out in pain, jumped off the lid, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it tightly around her hand. She climbed back up, and picked the hairbrush back up. She knocked at the rest of the glass using the hairbrush, and watched as all the glass finally broke away. She grabbed another towel, put in on the bottom of the broken window, and climbed up to the back of the toilet. She hoisted herself up, and put the top half of her body through the window.

She looked around. She was not sure what she was going to do once she climbed out, as she was three stories up, and the roof slanted at such an angle that she would surely fall if she were not careful.

She decided to go for broke. Nothing was going to stop her now. She continued to lean out the window, until her upper body was completely outside. She turned around, so she was sitting on the bottom of the broken window. She grabbed a stovepipe on the roof, and pulled herself out. She stood on the slanted roof, and looked out upon the quiet Muggle neighbourhood. Everyone was at school, or work. There was no one around. She leaned down, and started walking close to the pitch of the roof, hunched over with her hand in contact with the roof the entire time. She walked to the edge, and stood back up. That was when she saw him, as he walked right up to her house.

Hermione stood up the best she could on the high roof and yelled. "HARRY!"

"Hermione?" Harry yelled back to her. He ran toward the side of the house and said, "What are you doing on the roof?"

"Just get me down," she pleaded. He apparated to the roof, wobbled one moment before he gained his footing, then apparated to her apartment.

"You're bleeding," he said.

"Don't state the obvious, Harry. We have to go, Draco went to meet Grayson," Hermione said scathingly.

"When?" Harry asked.

"No more than fifteen minutes ago. He locked me in my bathroom, and I climbed out the window. I cut my hand, but it's not bad," Hermione said.

"Where is he meeting him?" Harry asked, unwrapping the towel from around her hand. He walked her over to her sink, and put her hand under the water.

"I don't even know. Can't you track him or something? You are an Auror, so do some Auroring." Hermione took her hand from his, and wrapped it back in the towel.

"Auroring? That's not even a word," Harry surmised. "Hermione, we're following Grayson's every move, so if he's meeting Malfoy, we'll find them. I tried to apparate here, but you must have blocked me. I couldn't floo either."

"Draco must have done that," Hermione concluded.

"That's why I came down your street. I had to apparate to the alley down the street, and come by foot. Good thing, since you probably would have fallen off the roof. What were you thinking?" Harry asked.

"I wasn't thinking, I just wanted to find Draco. Please, Harry, go find him," she pleaded.

"I told you, he'll be fine. I have to ask you something first," Harry began, but stopped to unwrapped her hand again, before he healed it with his wand. He kissed her hand and handed it back to her. "Hermione, in your research of the professor, did you ever uncover whether he had children?"

"He didn't seem to, and Draco seemed convinced in the beginning that he didn't, but it was odd, because there was a nursery at the house," she answered.

"I found out, from uncovering sealed records at the Ministry, that Derek Grayson was Professor Dewey's son. His mother died in childbirth. Derek really did testify against his father when he was twelve, and the Ministry changed his name and identity, and he was taken away from his father. He entered Hogwarts as a ward of the Ministry," Harry explained.

Hermione was shocked. "What does this mean?" she asked.

"It means he lied, for one thing. It means he was never a student there. I believe he was friends with Agnes Abernathy, and that he really might have loved her, and I do believe he sought her out at age sixteen, and I believe he was responsible for her regaining her magic. I don't know what happened to her after that, but I know he seemed almost to disappear afterwards. He never went back to school, and the Ministry lost track of him, although he wasn't yet of age." Harry took Hermione's hand.

"I still don't understand," Hermione said.

Harry explained about Marcus Flint's gambling problems, about Derek contacting them to buy the estate, about James Patterson, and how Marcus killed Patterson, trying to save Hermione's life.

"Marcus isn't dead?" she asked. She was shocked. She sat at her table. "I'm glad he's not dead."

"Hermione, he's the reason you lost your magic," he said. "Didn't you hear that part of my story?"

"Well, yes, but still, it's more Nathaniel Dewey's fault, than anyone else's. What I don't understand, is why he would have to buy Dewey's belongings, if he was the rightful heir," she concluded.

"He didn't want anyone to associate him with Dewey, or know he was his son," Harry answered.

"Why would James Patterson want the professor's things? I understand Derek wanting them, and I really do think he wanted to destroy them, but what did James want?" Hermione asked.

"Well, we did some digging on Patterson, too," Harry said. "His father was a Death Eater. Patterson shared his father's views. He was a big supporter of Voldemort, and of people like Professor Dewey. He probably was a sick bastard who wanted to carry on with their work. In a way, he used Derek Grayson, too."

"Why would Grayson want us both dead? Did he really blow up the cottage we were in, or not?" she asked.

"I have no clue," Harry admitted.

"Can we go try to find Draco now, please?" Hermione asked.

"If I leave you here, are you going to climb out the bathroom window again?" Harry asked, although he already knew the answer. She walked over, put on her jacket, and he said, "Let's go find Draco."

Draco looked at the note again. It read, "_Mr. Malfoy, if you want to help your love, meet me, and meet me alone. One hour, same park as the last time. Derek Grayson_." Draco clutched the note in one hand, his wand in the other. He didn't know what game this man was playing, but Draco was ending it today. He sat down on the bench to wait.

He didn't have to wait long. Derek appeared and walked toward Draco. Draco pointed his wand at Derek. "Are you going to kill me, Mr. Malfoy?" Derek asked, not mocking, not concerned, he just wondered.

"I might, you tried to kill me," he answered.

"I didn't blow up the cottage," Derek said.

"But yet, you knew it happened, aye?" Draco asked.

"I knew. James Patterson must have already arranged that. Seems he revered Professor Dewey, and he didn't want anyone around that could tarnish his reputation. You and I were supposed to be in the cabin, the last witnesses, so to speak. He thought he would already have Miss Granger safely tucked away where no one would find her but him. He wrote to me, the night she was kidnapped, and told me if I wanted her safe, to have you meet me at the cabin that next day, to collect the money from you. Of course, he never wanted the money, so the fact that it would have blown up with us would have been of little consequences. I swear I didn't know it would blow up when I took her there, and told you to go there. I didn't know until I went to collect you there, just today."

"James went to the estate, was going to kill Marcus, and take Miss Granger. I spoiled those plans by showing up there as well. He wanted you and I to meet at the cabin the next day, where it would have blown up, and all his loose ends would have been tied," Derek said.

"Why? Why would he want to do that?" Draco asked.

"He really was my son, something even he didn't know until he was a teenager. However, that was just one of my horrible lies. I was Nathaniel Dewey's son," Derek stated. He sat down on the bench. Draco loosened his grip on his wand, and sat beside him.

"I hated what my father did, even though he tried to instill in me his hatred of Muggle-borns, I was never convinced. The thing was, he was always so kind to the children he taught. He never harmed them; he just wanted to remove them from magical society, because he thought they were a blight to our way of life."

"How did he find these children?" Draco asked.

"He used some of the same magic that the founders of Hogwarts used, but on a more limited basis. He acted like a Muggle researcher, and educator. He worked in the school systems, observing children for a 'research project'. He would secretly examine them, if he caught a whiff of magical ability, what he called a trace, he would follow them closer, and if he became convinced, he would offer them scholarships at his school. No one questioned anything, for people of the Muggle education system respected him."

"He really did offer them an exceptional education. He educated me along with them, but when we were alone, he tried to indoctrinate me with his hatred. I became best friends with Agnes. My father even became very fond of her. When I was eleven, I received my Hogwarts letter, and I shared it with her. She had received a similar letter, but my father was able to block it. You see, most of the Muggle-borns would still receive their letters. However, when Hogwarts would send them out, if they got no response back, they would assume the children's parents didn't want them to attend. Sometimes my father sent out letters of refusal for the parents."

"My father found out I shared my letter with Agnes, and he was angrier than I had ever seen him in my life. He cursed me that day, and he caused me more pain than I have ever known. I knew later he that actually used the Crucio on me. On his own son, a child." Derek stopped talking for a moment. He looked back at Draco and said, "When I awoke after I passed out, Agnes was on the floor beside me, and my father was gone. I went straight to the Ministry. My father was arrested, but as you know, he paid off the corrupt Ministry, and after six months in jail, went back to his work under the watch of the Ministry. He never went back to teaching Muggle-borns, but he continued to monitor those he did teach, and he started writing his books on blood purity."

"He never tried to contact me, but I knew he still had contact with Agnes. I also knew my father had a safeguard, a way out, if you will. He had developed a spell, to reverse the spell to remove magic, just in case he would ever need it. I went to my father, the first time I'd seen him in four years, and begged him to help me wake Agnes, so I could return her magic to her. He said he would help me, that he owed me that much. He went with me, and he woke her. I don't even know what spell he used that put her in her coma in the first place. He used the spell to give her back her magic, and then he left me, and told me he was sorry."

"He never told me that she would forget me. Maybe he didn't know. She didn't remember anything from the time she lost her magic at age seven, until that moment she woke up. It was six months of hell. The Ministry had to get involved, because her magic was out of control. She didn't know how to use it, or contain it, and her poor family had no idea that she was a witch."

"She did come to care for me again, and we did fall in love, that part was never a lie. Finally, she became so depressed, that she tried to kill herself. She couldn't handle the magic, the loss of memory, the fact she had been in a coma. It was too much, and she was too fragile. I went to my father and asked him to remove her magic again, but to keep her awake. I thought, she could be happy without her magic, and if she forgot me again, well, at least she would be happy. Maybe we could even fall in love again."

"He agreed, he came to her house, and he gave her the same book that removed Hermione's magic. It was the only one the Ministry hadn't confiscated, because it was written as a child's story, where the other dark books were written as textbooks. She lost her magic again, but somehow, she went back in her coma. He was distraught that he let me down. He tried to make it up to me, but I hated him more than ever. I vowed he would never hurt anyone again."

"My own son, James, was told all of this when he was a teenager. I told him about it when Voldemort came back the second time. You see, James had a stepfather, who was a Death Eater, and he idolized Voldemort and everything in which he stood. When he found out I was his real father, and Nathaniel Dewey was my father, he was ecstatic. I thought the stories would repulse him, but I guess they had the opposite effect. He led me to believe he wanted to help me destroy everything to do with my father, but he lied. My father's evilness passed down through the generations, I suppose."

"My greatest regrets are that I never stopped my father sooner, that I had him go visit Agnes, and that I told James I was his real father. Those are my regrets. Well, and what happened to your love."

"Why did you let James kill Agnes?" Draco asked.

"I didn't want him to kill her. He seemed to think he could find out what spell was used to remove her magic by examining her. I thought if he used Agnes, he would leave Hermione alone. I had no idea it would kill her. I guess I killed her." He hung his head, and started to weep.

"Why did you tell me to meet you here, alone?" Draco asked.

"I wanted to convince you to do the right thing. Do what I was too late to do for Agnes. Leave it alone, don't try to return her magic, and just love her. But, I know the reality is that someone will try to return her magic to her, and it might have disastrous results, so here," Derek held out a piece of parchment, "this parchment contains the incantation you need to return her magic to her. Be aware, if you pick that route, she will forget everything that happened from the time she lost her magic. In addition, I cannot assure you it will not cause other problems, because I don't know why Agnes went back into her coma. Choose wisely, Mr. Malfoy."

"It's Hermione's choice," Draco said.

"I hope she chooses wisely," he said, finally standing. "I'm tired. I am so tired. I hope the best for you two, I really do. I have to go now. Please, don't contact me again. Goodbye, Mr. Malfoy." He held out his hand. Draco stood up and shook the man's hand.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Draco said sincerely.

The older man smiled a weak smile, and disapparated away.

Hermione and Harry Potter got there just as he left. Draco put the parchment with the incantation in his pocket. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with it.


	28. Nearly Over

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 28 – Nearly Over:****  
**  
Hermione ran up to Draco. She threw her arms around him and said, "Draco, you let him go."

"So," Draco responded.

"But, there's still so much we need to know," she said.

"No Hermione, we don't need anything from him. We just need to leave him alone. If Potter wants to talk to him, as an Auror, then he can, but you and I, we have nothing left to fear from him, and he has nothing left to offer us."

He grabbed her hand and started walking away. She stopped. He dropped her hand. "How can you say that? We need to know if he knows how to return my magic to me!"

"He doesn't" Draco said. He turned to leave without her. She followed, as Harry stayed where he was.

"Draco, did he tell you that? Did he say there was no hope?" she asked, anguished.

Draco was just as anguished. "Would that be so bad, Hermione? If you never got your magic back, would that be the end of the world?" he beckoned. "If you had to be content with your life as it is right now, just you and I, in love, but no magic, wouldn't that be enough?"

"Are you saying that because you know there's no hope?" she asked.

"FOR MERLIN'S SAKES, GRANGER!" he bellowed, "Answer my fucking question!" Harry ran up to the two, as Hermione stood there shaking.

"NO!" she said, "I mean, I don't know! I don't want that to be the way it is! I will never feel adequate enough for you!"

"Leave us, Potter!" Draco demanded.

Harry raised his hands and said, "Fine, I still have a few things I need to talk to Grayson about, even if you don't, Malfoy. Hermione, call me later." Harry left them alone.

Hermione said, "Now you answer my question, did he tell you there was no hope?"

"Hermione," Draco began. He didn't know what he wanted to say. "Please."

"What? Please what?" she implored. She hung onto his arms. "Draco, it's just, I didn't think this would last. I really assumed I would get my magic back. Do you really think you could be happy with me, the way I am right now."

"Yes, I do, but apparently, you wouldn't be happy." He finally realized what he had to do. "Promise me something, Hermione," he asked.

"What?" she asked, still dazed and confused, for he had yet to tell her anything of importance.

"Just make sure your magic is what you really want. Make sure you want it more than you want anything," he said.

"I do, I want it more than anything," she said.

He pulled her into a tight embrace. "More than you want me?"

"Draco," she said, pushing away from him, "of course not. I want you and my magic, but there's no comparison, I want you more. Nevertheless, the reality is that I don't really have to choose, do I? I won't get my magic back. That's what he told you, isn't it. I can handle it, just tell me."

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her so many things. He also was still a selfish person. He asked, "If there was a choice, and I'm not saying there is, but humour me," he added desperately, "If there was a choice, between your magic and me, just tell me, what would you choose."

She took a step back, and looked at him for a long time. The late autumn wind was swishing his hair around. His face was pale and his eyes looked desperate. Since she didn't really have to make a choice, for that would be too surreal, she said what she knew he wanted to hear, and what she really, really, wanted to be the truth. "Draco, I choose you."

He rushed to her, grabbing her hard against him once more. He looked at her face, and then kissed her lips. He wanted to believe her, but again, what did he really expect her to say.

"What did Derek say to you?" she asked.

"Can we go home first?" he asked. He needed time to think if he would tell her the complete truth. They went back to her flat, and he told her part of the truth. He told her that Derek was the professor's son, and that James was his. He told her that the professor tried to return Agnes' magic, and that it lasted for a while, but that she soon became depressed, and that she went back into her coma, and no one ever knew why.

"How did he return Agnes' magic to her?" she asked.

Should he lie or tell the truth? "Derek never knew, and his father never told him," he lied. She looked crestfallen. "So, we know it's all over. No more mystery to solve and no more madmen out there trying to find you, Granger." He pulled her to him, as they sat on her couch.

"Yes, good to know it's all over," she said softly, but not convincingly.

Draco hated himself right now, but he loved her more, so if he had to lie, he would lie, and no one would ever know the truth. "Do you know how Marcus is doing?" Draco asked.

"Harry said that he will probably go free, self-defense and all, and he did try to help us, in the end," Hermione said. "Harry seems to think I should blame Marcus for losing my magical ability, but I don't."

Draco thought, 'No, you should blame me'.

"Draco, why haven't I met your parents?" she asked "I mean, I know I really already know them, but why haven't I met them again?"

He frowned slightly. Where did that come from? "I don't know." He really didn't.

"Do they know about me?" she asked.

"No." He thought it was about time he was honest with her about something. She looked up at his face, and he was still frowning.

"Where do you live?" she asked.

"In a house," he said. "Why the twenty-questions, Hermione?"

"I just wanted to know, if the reason you're reluctant to show me your world has anything to do with the fact that I no longer belong in it, and because I no longer have magic," she remarked.

"You think that?" he asked, appalled.

"Well, we've been together over six weeks. You've met my parents, and my friends," she said.

"I've met your parent's twice, at St. Mungo's both times. It's not like I've been around for Sunday brunch, and of course I've met your friends, I've known most of them as long as you have," he stated.

"Okay," she said. She stood up and walked over to her closet. She grabbed a jumper and pulled it over her head. She said, "I'll make us some dinner."

He jumped off the couch. "No, I want to take you to meet my parents," he said suddenly.

"No, I've met them before, remember," she said. She seemed very sad, or maybe he just imagined it.

"I thought you wanted to meet them," he said.

"I wanted you to want me to meet them, that's a whole different thing, Draco," she said.

"I want you to meet them," he said. "Please, I really do."

"Maybe tomorrow," she sighed.

"Well, let's go back to my house, and my elves can make us some dinner," he said.

"You don't have to prove anything to me," she said.

"Bloody hell!" he exploded. "What do you want from me? I'm trying, here, Granger, I am really trying, and you're making it so difficult. Fine, you haven't been to my house. So what? It is just a house, it is not a home, like this is. That's why I want to be here, not there. You've not formally met the Malfoys, who cares? I seriously thought you wouldn't want to meet them again, not the other way around. I'm not afraid you aren't good enough for them, I'm afraid they aren't good enough for you, and that's the truth! It's true that they wouldn't understand, or approve, but I don't give a rats-arse, because I love you." He looked at her, and she still looked lost and forlorn. He really did not know what more he could do for her.

She looked at him for the longest time, and he felt for the first time since his meeting with Grayson, that she was not looking at him and accusing him of something. He knew that was probably his imagination, but that was how he had felt all afternoon. Until now. She looked up at him and said, "I love you, too. We just need to relax and feel what it's like to be a normal couple. No threats over our head, no mystery to solve. I thrive on stress usually, but that was a lot for me, too. I know you're trying hard, and I appreciate that. I'm so sorry, Draco. I'll try harder, too."

He didn't want her to blame herself for his shortcomings. She did not need to try harder, but all he could do was smile and agree with her. She took his hands and smiled at him, a smile that melted his heart. She said, "What do you want for dinner?"

Two weeks past by, and Draco had become more and more sullen with each passing day. He still felt guilty, but this time, he didn't feel guilty because she lost her magic, but because he didn't want her to have it back.

They pretty much went back to the way things were. They still had many items at the Dewey estate that needed appraised and sold. He was spending most of his free time there, especially since Marcus was still waiting to have his Ministry trial, and was not back to work.

Hermione went back to work for the Weasleys, but she was reduced to a glorified clerical staff, and she was increasingly unhappy everyday. He could see that the spark had left her eye.

Draco had practically moved into her flat, and although it was small, they seemed happy there. At least that was what he deluded himself into believing.

Until, one day.

He had almost wrapped everything up at the Professor's estate. Most everything had sold, including the house. He told Hermione he would be working late that fateful night, and she said that was fine, she was going to her parents. Around five o'clock, he decided to surprise her, come home early, and cook some dinner for her for a change. Draco was a horrible cook, since he never really had to cook for himself, but he was convinced he could come up with something. He bought some flowers, and some food. He popped home, expecting it to be empty, since she was supposed to be at her parents.

Therefore, he was stunned when he found her at home. The whole house was dark. Even though it was November, and darker earlier in the evening, the house was unusually dark. He used his wand to light her lamps, and he put his groceries and flowers on the table before he even saw her. She was on the bed, and oblivious to the fact that he had even entered the flat. He turned to look at her; she was across the bed, on her stomach, her head on her arms, crying. He felt helpless, watching her weep. He also felt like he was interrupting something that he was not meant to see.

He walked up to the bed, and he could tell he surprised her. "What's wrong?" he asked. He rubbed his hand up and down her back.

She sat up, and wiped her eyes. "Nothing, I thought you were working late," she said.

"I decided to come and surprise you with supper," he said.

She scrambled off the bed and said, "I'll fix it."

He sighed and said, "Stop it."

"I don't mind," she said, unloading his groceries.

"NO, I mean, stop all of this!" he shouted. "You're an empty shell, Granger. I don't even know who you are anymore. You're like a robot, walking around, doing menial things like writing estimates for the Weasleys, and cooking and cleaning. What happened to your brain, Granger? Did you lose that with your magic? You once told me that it didn't matter if you lost your magic, because you would still have your brain. You said one thing had nothing to do with the other. Prove that to me, and do something with your life!"

She looked like he slapped her. She sunk to the floor and wailed. "I'm trying to adapt, I really am. I'm so sorry, Draco, just tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it."

He had reduced her to this! "I'm sorry, Hermione! Someone needs to tell you these things. Your magic didn't define you as a person. It's not what made you special," he said, kneeling beside her, but not touching her.

She continued to cry. In his anger, which was at himself, but directed toward her, he stood back up, picked up the table, and toppled all the groceries on the floor beside her.

He had the chance to give her magic back to her, but he was afraid if he did, he would lose her, and in the end, he lost her anyway. The real her. Not physically, she was still there, but he had lost the real her. The light in her eyes were gone. "I give up," he said softly. He sat down beside her.

"Are you leaving me?" she asked.

"I will never leave you," he said.

She hiccupped back a sob and said, "You said you give up."

"I know, and I do." He stood up and picked her up. She was confused, he knew, but it didn't matter. She didn't have to know. He was going to do what he should have done in the first place. He was giving her back her life, because it was the right thing to do, and because he loved her that much.

He would have to tell Potter or someone about it, because after he did it, she would be afraid and alone. Time would have past, and she would not be aware. It was just as well that he had yet to take her to his parents, or to his house. It would be easier that way, less explaining to do. He knew that her friends and family would keep 'them' a secret. Yes, he had to do it, it was right.

He swayed back and forth with her in his arms, as he contemplated these things. "Granger, let's make love," he said. He had to hold her, because it might be the last time.

He kissed her mouth, and he could taste her tears. He was so ashamed of himself. He should have done this in the first place. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, anxiously. Somehow, the fact that this might be the last time they ever made love, made him physically hurt.

He kept his arms fixed around her, and reached up to dry her tears. She reached around for a towel on the counter, and she blotted her face dry. She put her hand on his cheek. He picked her up and put her on the countertop. He stood between her knees, and his hand played along the top part of her thigh. He started to kiss her neck. Her head fell back, to give him more access. His right hand was still traveling up her thigh. His left hand was around her waist.

Her legs wrapped around him to bring him closer. His hand that was on her thigh was now on her stomach. She leaned back on the counter, and hit her head on the cupboard. He put his left hand in her hair and said, "Watch your head, we don't want another headache." His left hand went firmly on her back, and his right hand went into the front of her pants. He was kissing her lips. Playing with them, and teasing them, trying desperately to remember them.

He kissed her collarbone; he reached for the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled it over her shoulders, and past her head. His mouth traveled down to the swell of her breasts. He wanted to taste her, so he did. His mouth kissed her right breast, while his hand enveloped the other.

She pushed him away, for just a moment, and she hopped down off the counter. She wrapped her arms around his neck and led him to the bed. She stood before the bed, and pulled her pants down her legs. He thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He had to take everything in, and lock it away in his memory for all time.

He slipped out of his clothes. She removed her last barrier. They were standing just a few paces from each other, completely naked. They stared at each other. It was as if this was their first time. He wanted to remember everything about this moment. He wanted to remember her face, her body, her mind and her soul.

She came closer and touched his chest. She touched him hesitantly, and her hand shook. He thought it was almost as if she knew. She touched him so lightly, he thought for a moment his skin must be on fire. He ran one hand down the middle of her chest, to her navel, and then beyond. He put both hands on her shoulders, brought her closer and kissed her again.

Their bodies fit perfectly together. He knew if they were meant to be once, they would be again. Her breasts were hard up against his chest. He was hard up against her belly. Her delicate hands were everywhere. She stroked his hardness several times, and his head fell back in ecstasy. He grabbed her, and almost threw her on the bed. He started to kiss her all over. His breath was warm and erotic against her skin. She whimpered and said his name. He said hers.

He put a breast in his mouth, and his hand went between her legs. He looked up at her, and her head was going side to side. "Tell me you'll never forget me," he said. She moaned. He had rather that she had answered him. It didn't matter. He knew she wouldn't forget him, not really. He put his legs between hers, to hold hers apart, and he continued to stroke and caress her tenderly. He dropped his mouth to capture her lips again. He pulled his head up; he wanted to see her face. Her head was back on the pillow.

She looked at him, and brought her head up and finally answered his plea, "I told you before, I'll never forget you. Why would you ask that?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't answer. He withdrew his hand, and kissed her stomach. Her legs started to come together again. His tongue traveled farther, and flicked back and forth against her burning desire. She was bringing her hips up, and he decided it was time. He brought his face back level with hers and said, "Remember me forever, Hermione." She opened her eyes, and looked right into his soul.

He had missed so much in his life. She had given him more than he ever thought possible, more than he ever deserved. If she forgot him, his one solace was that he could never forget her. He loved her. He entered her, in one swift motion, and he knew this was different. He knew this was possibly the last time he would ever make love to her.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, to grant him deeper access. Her legs had begun to spasm from the weight of him, and from her desire. This was so much more than she had ever felt before. They had made love many times, but never this intense, and she didn't even know the reason why this time was different.

They were both close to their end. He quickened his strokes. He came out of her completely, just for a moment. He wanted to slow down. He didn't want it to end so quickly, not this time, especially not this time. She began to cry, and he didn't know why, but he thought it was appropriate. He entered her again, and that was his end. He shuddered on top of her, and she quickly followed. He pulled out of her, and fell on his stomach, beside her. He could barely breathe. She lay on her side, her breathing as hard as his was. He reached for her, with one arm, and pulled her closer. He moved to his back, and pulled her to his side. He was not letting her go, at least not at the moment, and in his heart, never.

They held each other, tightly, until nightfall. She finally fell asleep in his arms. He slid off the bed, and put on his pants. He began to remove everything in the room that was his. He knew she would only remember everything that happened before their first date, so she certainly would be shocked if she found a pair of his socks or something in her bathroom. He doubled checked everything, and once he was done, he walked over to her and woke her up. He gently rubbed her arm, "Hermione, wake up a moment."

She turned to her side and said, "Yes?" She kept her eyes closed.

He said, "Remember what you promised me. Don't ever forget me."

Her eyes still shut, she said, "I can never forget you. How could I, I love you."

"I love you more." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. He finished dressing, and took the parchment with the spell out of his pocket. He carried it with him everyday. He knew this day would come. He knew he loved her enough to let her go. He loved her enough to give her magic back. He loved her enough to have her forget she loved him.

He stood over her for the longest time, and when he was certain she was sound asleep, he kissed her lips one last time, and said the incantation. He stood back, as a soft gold, wraithlike glow, came over her body. He knew in his heart that it worked. He picked up his belongings, making sure he didn't forget his cat, Pippin, and quickly went to Potter's house. He had a lot to explain to the man, and he wanted to get it over with before Hermione woke in the morning. He wanted to be sure that Harry would be there with her when she woke, so she had a familiar face, a friend, someone who could explain where she had been for the last few months. He could only hope they could start again, since he would never love anyone the way he loved her.


	29. A Cup of Coffee and A Wave, Part II

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 29 – A Cup of Coffee and A Wave, Part II:**

Draco was having a bad day. Actually, he thought all his days were bad now. He used to put his days into two categories, good days and bad days, like everyone else. Now, he had only one category…bad days. He might consider making two categories again, perhaps bad days and very bad days. He would have to consider it.

Marcus, acquitted of all charges, decided not to come back to work, so Draco bought out his share of the company. Therefore, Draco had a lot of work to do, and he had to do it himself. That was reason number one for his bad day. Frankly, Draco no longer considered the man a friend, although, in the scheme of things, he was the reason he first reconnected with Granger, in this very café, only a few months ago. He was also the reason she lost her magic, and he lost her, therefore, Draco didn't feel like forgiving the man, not yet.

His mother bothered him weekly about settling down, finding the right girl, getting married…the works. He didn't care if he ever went on another date. He told his mother there was no such thing as 'the right girl', but that was a lie. He already had the right girl, and he did the right thing and let her go. Now, he just had to wait for HIS right girl somehow to find her way back to him. That was reason number two for his bad day.

Reason number three for his bad day, and every bad day, was that he was here in his favourite café, drinking black coffee, reading his newspaper, but his mind was somewhere else. It was always somewhere else. It was on her. He always thought of her. He called Potter last week, and he told Draco that she was doing fine. Apparently, she spent the first two weeks in shock. They were truthful to her, up to a point. They told her that she lost her magic, and that she had forgotten everything from the point where she lost her magic, to when it returned. The Healers told everyone that she may never recover her memory, but it was best to let her uncover things on her own, less traumatic, so no one told her anything that happened the two months she was without magic. The two months she was in love with Draco.

Potter told Draco she remembered working with him at the Dewey Estate, and she remembered opening the book. That was it. They explained to her about the school building collapsing, about Agnes and Derek, and all the finer details, but no one got into specifics with her. She had to remember that herself, if she ever did. Draco was a 'specific', so she would have to remember him on her own, if she ever did.

Harry wanted to tell her about Draco, he almost did several times, especially since Draco made such a big sacrifice for her, but he followed the advice of the Healers, and he never said a word.

Draco had heard she was back to work for the Weasleys. She even sent Draco a nice, informal, note, telling him that she was so sorry that she had forgotten everything she had done for him at the estate, and she only hoped that she had been helpful to him. Helpful? Yes, she had been helpful. She had saved his life, and taught him what love was. That was bloody helpful. She ended the note by saying she hoped they could work together in the future. He sent her a note in return, telling her that he would like that.

He finished his coffee, and stood to put on his coat and scarf. It was February, and frightfully cold. He threw money on the table, and walked out the door. He put on his gloves and turned up his collar. That reminded him, his cat needed a new collar, as he had grown so much. There was a pet store around the corner. He entered the pet store, and meandered through the aisles. He heard the bell over the door, and glanced up quickly. He was dumbstruck. It was Hermione, here, of all places.

He bent his head, and acted as if he had not seen her enter. What was she doing here? He picked up a yellow collar, pretending to be interested.

"I like the blue," came the voice of the angel behind him.

He took a deep breath, tightened his jaw, and steadied himself. He took off his gloves and he turned to face her slowly. "Really, I would have thought you would like the red one, former Gryffindor and all."

"If that's the case, I suppose you like the green, Mr. Slytherin?" she said with a smile. He had missed her smile so much.

He put the yellow collar back and picked up the blue one. "No, I actually like the blue as well," he said.

"Is it for a dog?" she asked.

"No, why?" he asked back.

"Well, that collar is really large. I though maybe you had a Great Dane or a German shepherd or something," she said. She took the collar from his hands, brushing her fingers against his. He felt like she had shocked him. She put the large collar back on the hook and said, "What type of dog is it?"

"It's a cat," he answered. She looked up at him, with a strange expression on her face. He had even missed that.

"A cat? I never pictured you as a cat person, Malfoy," she said. She picked up an appropriate blue collar, one for a cat, and handed it to him.

"Yes, well, there's a lot you don't know about me, Granger," he said. He took another deep breath. He didn't think he could stand being next to her like this even one more second, without grabbing her and kissing her. He had missed her so much.

She leaned back against the display shelf and said, "What type of cat do you have, Draco? Surely a purebred, maybe a Siamese, a Russian Blue, what?"

"I don't think its anything. It's just a little calico cat," Draco said with a slight frown. At least, he did not think it was a special kind of cat. He would have to find that out and let her know later.

She asked, "What's its name?"

"Pippin," he answered.

She didn't say anything, but her mouth stayed open for a minute and she finally said, "Really? Pippin?" He nodded. "Wow, that's strange, I mean, the name's not strange, it's just, I love that name. I always thought if I had another cat, I would call it Pippin. That is just so, odd, isn't it. Pippin." She stood back up, but had a confused look on her face. She looked back at him and said, "Where did you get that name?"

"I heard it somewhere, and I liked it. I think some Muggle book had a character by that name, and some Musical or something," he said. He went up to pay for the collar. He kept turning to check on her, to make sure she wouldn't leave. He thought the cat's name might make her remember, but she didn't. She didn't remember the cat. He felt like his heart was going to stop beating. She really did not remember anything.

He turned toward the front door of the store and said, "What are you doing here, Granger?"

She smiled again and said, "I'm stalking you."

He gave her a funny look, his heart leaping to his chest, but then she added, "Not really, but I did follow you from the café. I went to find you there. Your assistant said you go there everyday after work. I wanted to ask you something."

"You want permission to start stalking me, perhaps?" He smiled.

"Of course I do, but we'll discuss that later," she joked. She was flirting with him. He could not help but smile. She said, "I shouldn't have said that, you might find me creepy."

"Define 'creepy'," he said.

"We've already had this conversation before, remember?" she said. Actually, he had forgotten. That conversation happened that first day at the professor's house, before she lost her memory.

He said, "Oh yeah, I forgot, sorry."

"I've forgotten everything these days," she said, somewhat sad. He had nothing to say in response. She said, "Could we take this back to the coffee shop?"

He nodded, opened the door, and she walked out ahead of him. He put the cat's collar in his pocket, and placed his hand lightly on her back, leading her back toward the café. He didn't need to lead her, but he wanted to touch her. They walked back in the café, and sat back in the booth he had just vacated.

He ordered two coffees, one black, one with cream and sugar. She leaned toward him and said, "Is the black coffee for you?"

"Yes," he said.

"How did you know I took mine with cream and sugar?" she asked.

"Lucky guess," he said. "Now, tell me what you wanted to ask me."

"First, I want to say that I am dreadfully sorry that I left you and Marcus in the lurch last fall, with the Dewey estate. I know that Bill and Charlie finished everything up, and Harry told me that I had an accident, that the school building collapsed, and that I was pretty much out of commission after that. Therefore, I'm sorry I wasn't of more help. I feel like I abandoned you."

He wanted to say, 'you did', but then he would have to add, 'and I abandoned you', so instead he said, "That's fine, Granger, don't think on it."

"That's no problem, I can't think of anything. I just want to remember, you know, which brings me to why I wanted to talk to you," she said hesitantly. She looked down at her coffee, and placed both hands around the warmth of the mug. He took one of her hands, but she quickly withdrew it.

He messed up. He shouldn't have done that. He wasn't thinking.

"Sorry," she said.

"Sorry," he said at the same time. She smiled again.

She bit down on her bottom lip, and then continued. She looked up at him, and he was staring at her intently. "No one will tell me anything, Draco, and it's maddening. The Healers think I should discover everything myself, but every time I think I have discovered something, and I ask someone about it, they won't confirm anything. You see, mostly, I've been having dreams, but they're so vivid and real, and I was wondering if my memory was coming back in my dreams."

That was a long sentence, he thought. He finally said, "Tell me your dreams, Hermione, and if I can tell you if they are true or not, I will."

"They are mostly flashes, but other things I recall really well. I probably shouldn't bring this up, because it's so embarrassing, but, I remember…" she stopped talking for a moment.

"Yes, you remember?" he said. He leaned forward to look at her. Her eyes went back to her coffee. He put his hand on her chin to lift her gaze to his. "You remember?"

"I remember, for instance, sitting on my couch with you, eating Italian food, and watching a Muggle movie, but, surely, that has to be a dream, not a memory, because, you would never eat with me and watch a movie with me," she said hesitantly.

When he neither confirmed nor denied what she said, she continued. "I remember sitting in The Three Broomsticks with you, and you pulling me down on your lap, and taking my hand, and I know that never happened to us when we were in school, but yet, when else would we have been in The Three Broomsticks together? So, perhaps that's just a dream as well."

"Go on," he prodded.

"I don't know, there are more, but, I don't really want to mention them," she said, blushing.

"Oh, those type of dreams," he laughed. "Something blue and risqué, Miss Granger?"

"No," she said. She smiled and looked down.

"I think that's really a yes," he said. He loved the blush that tinged her cheeks.

She looked up again, so serious this time, and said, "I feel like there's so much people aren't telling me, because some of my memories are so clear, and so real, and they just had to have happened. They had to, but if some of the memories that I think I am recalling are about you, and if they are real, then that leads me to wonder why you aren't in my life? Why aren't you with me?" She was speaking so softly, he had trouble hearing her. She was once again staring at her cup of coffee. "I guess my dreams are just that, dreams." She paused yet again, and this time he didn't urge her to continue.

She finally said, "I remember a little joke going back and forth between us about a goodnight kiss." She looked up and said, "I even remember throwing little tomatoes at your head." She laughed.

He laughed as well. "Well, I would never stand for that."

"I didn't think so, I didn't think any of them were real, but, I just had to ask," she stated. She finally took a drink of her coffee. He followed her lead.

He didn't know if he should confirm everything she said. He was waiting for her to say, "I remember that I love you," but no admission of love was forthcoming, so he didn't know what to say to her.

Just when he thought her 'memories' were over, she said, "I have a strong feeling that I was scared, and you were there for me. I mean, sometimes the feelings are vague like that. I can't recall what I was scared of, I just have a feeling that I was, and you helped me. Other times, I can actually see us sitting on my couch, or lying on my bed, talking, touching, and even kissing." She looked up at him, and a tear was on her cheek.

"Please, Draco, please, tell me I'm not losing my mind. Tell me if anything I've said to you is real. If they aren't, tell me that as well, but say something!" She was upset. Her tears started to flow. "Tell me you hate me as much today as you did in school, tell me you never sat on my couch, and you never held my hand, and that I never threw tomatoes at your head! Tell me something! Please! Tell me!"

He was still silent. She stood up suddenly and said, "I am so sorry. I was mistaken, wasn't I? I've embarrassed you and myself. I shouldn't have come here; I won't ever bother you again. I am so, so sorry!" She ran out of the café. He stood up, threw down some money again, and ran to follow her.

He caught her outside, on the sidewalk, as she was about to apparate.

"Fair is fair, Hermione, you've asked me a lot of questions, and I owe you some answers," he said.

She was shaking her head. "No, its fine, I'm so embarrassed. I know if we had shared the relationship that I imagined that we had, you would still be with me." She suddenly gasped and added, "Or maybe that's it, we did share a relationship, and it ended badly. Oh, I am sorry." She suddenly looked more embarrassed than sad.

"Please," Draco asked, "let me speak now. You asked a fair question, and you deserve a fair answer."

"I just want the truth, no matter how painful, and no one will tell me," she said sadly. She leaned against his chest, and he couldn't help but to put his arms around her body. She was still against his chest, when she said, "Thanks for the coffee. I shouldn't have bothered you."

He said, "Go out with me tonight, Granger. A date. Go out on a date with me, and I'll answer your questions."

She looked up at him, surprised. His arms were still around her body.

"A date?" she asked, confused.

He waited a moment, and then subtlety nodded his head. "Yes, a date."

She grinned and said, "I don't kiss on the first date."

He grinned back, one side of his mouth higher than the other and said, "First, I happen to know from experience that is not true, and I feel it is only right to tell you that I'll only go out with you if I am assured a goodnight kiss."

"Fair enough," she said. She shivered and he held her tighter. She said, "I know before I lost my magic, we were starting to have a relationship."

"Yes, a 'budding relationship' I think you once called it," he smiled.

"Well, yes, and I just want to remember if we carried on with that 'budding relationship', so, I would like to go out with you tonight. Perhaps it will help me to remember everything," she deduced.

"I hope so, Hermione, I really do." He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. That would have to do for now.

He let her go, and she started to walk away, but turned to him quickly. He was still looking at her. She ran back to him and said, "What time?"

"Seven," he said.

"Are you picking me up, or are we meeting somewhere?" she asked, as she put her arms around herself to fend off the cold.

He put his hands on her upper arms, and rubbed them up and down, hoping the friction would warm her, but mostly, he just wanted to touch her some more. "I'll meet you at your apartment, seven pm, and why don't we just stay in, have some take out, and some wine, maybe watch a movie."

She smiled brightly. "Fine, see you at seven. Maybe I'll make a banana cream pie." She waved and smiled, just as she did so many months ago, but this time, after the wave, she stepped back toward him, leaned up, and kissed his cheek. "See you later, Draco." She ran off down the street. He stood there, until she was out of sight, with his hand over his cheek. One thing was sure; he had two classifications of 'days' again, because this was now a 'good day', a very good day.


	30. To Remember the Truth

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 30 – To Remember the Truth:**

Appearances no longer mattered to Malfoy. He arrived eight minutes early for his date with Hermione and he didn't care. He didn't wait outside the door, as he did before. He ran up the two flights of stairs to her flat and knocked on the door. He had no idea if her wards had been changed, so he did not want to try to apparate. He looked down at his clothing, black slacks, black jacket, dark grey shirt, no tie. He thought he looked all right. He was nervous. This was more than just a date. This was either the beginning of their future, or the end of their past.

He knocked a second time. Why hadn't she answered? Finally he heard her yell out, "Just a minute, don't leave, I'm coming." Good, she seemed nervous as well. He wasn't sure why he found comfort in that fact. She threw the door open, and said, "Come in, come in, excuse me, I'm not ready," and she hopped back to the bathroom, putting her shoes on her feet on her way there. He walked in and almost laughed at the sight of a hopping Hermione, but he kept his laugh to himself. He walked around the little flat, and noticed that not much had changed. He found comfort in that, too.

He looked at her table. It wasn't set for dinner. Maybe she wanted to go out to eat. He turned toward the living area, and saw that she had wine, dinner plates, napkins and flatware laid out on the coffee table. He had some very fond memories of that coffee table. He was glad they were eating there. He walked over to her kitchen counter, and saw a banana crème pie. He swiped off some of the crème, and stuck his finger in his mouth. She took that moment to reappear from the bathroom.

"Can't wait for pudding?" She laughed, putting on her second earring.

"Sorry," he said, "but the last time someone made me banana crème pie, I didn't get any." He wanted to say, 'the last time I was here, it was smashed to bits by your backside while we were kissing'.

Maybe he would say that. As the words were forming in his brain, she said, "Hmm," very nonplussed. To cover for her confusion, she said, "I ordered Italian, I hope that's okay."

"Fine," he said. "You look nice." She looked beyond nice, she looked beautiful, lovely, sexy, and every other positive adjective he could imagine. She had on a deep red dress, long sleeves, tasteful, but somewhat sensual.

"Thank you," she said, looking down at her dress. "You look very nice, as well." She walked up to him and smoothed out the lapel of his jacket, which he knew, was a ruse, since no wrinkles dare exist in a Malfoy's jacket.

There was another knock on her door and she said, "Food's here. I thought we could eat at the coffee table." He went to sit down at the couch and she went to get their food. She brought the food over to the couch and said, "We need to be careful, because one of the legs of the coffee table seems a bit loose." She began to fill their plates and Draco could not help but snicker.

He had very extremely fond memories of the coffee table, and the reason for its loose limb. As he chuckled, he said, "I'm quite handy, perhaps I could have a look at it for you."

"I think it'll be fine," she said, as she poured the wine. "We just might want to be careful and not put our feet on the table or anything."

"Or have sex on it," he said.

She looked at him shocked and said, "What did you say?"

"I said, or jump on it," he amended.

"Okay," she said, not convinced. She shook her head and decided to ask, "Why would we jump on it?"

"Why indeed?" he asked. He started to eat and found that he could not look up at her. Instead, he was still smiling, reminiscing of their time on the coffee table.

She said, "See, this feels familiar." She took another drink of wine and said, "Didn't you promise that you would answer some questions tonight?"

"Ask away," he said brightly.

"So, have we dated?" she asked.

"Yes, and before you ask, we've dated more than once," he said.

"More than twice?" she asked.

"Yes." He swallowed hard and thought, 'to hell with the Healers, I'll answer any bloody question I want to answer'.

She asked, "What happened to us? Did we stop dating, breakup, what?"

"No, we didn't exactly breakup," he said slowly.

"Because we weren't exactly dating, we had just gone on a few dates?" she prodded.

"Not exactly," he answered. He wished she would move on to a different subject besides dating.

"We weren't dating?" she asked confused.

"Ask something else," he urged.

"I want an answer to this one. If we were dating, but we aren't now, we must have broken up, so tell me what happened. Why did we breakup? Did we get in a fight, did you cheat on me, what?"

He looked taken aback and said, "Why would you think I cheated on you?"

"Did I cheat on you?" she asked, more shocked than he was.

"Why would someone cheat on me?" he asked.

She stood up and threw down her napkin. "Oh Merlin, I'm more confused than ever. Can't you just answer a simple question, Malfoy?"

He stood as well and said, "Please, ask a different question." He sat back down and leaned his head on the back of the sofa. He put his arm over his eyes. He was already exhausted.

He felt her fingertips on his cheek. He moved his arm quickly, suddenly, startled, and said, "Why are you touching me?"

"You had sauce on your cheek," she said. He leaned up and wiped his face with his napkin.

"Did I get it?" he asked.

She took his napkin from him, her fingers skimming his, and wiped at his cheek. "There, I got it. I'll ask another question now; you don't seem inclined to answer the first one. Where's Marcus Flint? What happened to him? Harry said he got into some trouble."

He was expecting questions that were more personal. He picked up his plate and resumed eating. He said, "He wanted out of the business, so I bought him out, and yes, he had some money problems, gambling debts." He could answer questions like this.

He was not even looking at her when she asked her next question. "Do you love me?" she asked.

He dropped his fork, and it hit the coffee table and then clanged to the floor. She bent down, picked it up for him, and said, "Don't ask me to ask another question, because I want the answer to this one."

"Am I allowed to say, 'no comment'?" he asked.

"Does that mean no?" She wanted clarification.

He stood up again. "We're supposed to let you remember things on your own," he said feebly, while inside he was shouting, I LOVE YOU! He realized one second he was cursing the advice of the Healers, and the next second he was using them as a crutch. He walked over to her kitchen, and turned so he wasn't facing her.

She came up behind him and said, "Fine, don't answer that one either, but tell me, did I love you, because I feel like I did."

He turned toward her. "Hermione," he pleaded. He walked back over to the coffee table, picked up his wine glass, and gulped the whole contents in one drink. She was still undeterred by his stalling.

"So, we kissed, right? You can at least confirm that, can't you?" she asked, exasperated. "When was our first kiss?"

He sat back down and she followed. He said, "Our first real kiss was here in this apartment, on our second date, after we ate dinner."

"I don't remember it," she said sadly. "I've not even dreamt of it. Tell me about it. Was it nice?"

"Yes, very nice," he said with a smile.

"You said our first real kiss, so does that mean we had other kisses first?" she inquired, smiling.

"We kissed on the cheek a few times, and once when you were on an old iron gate, at Bill Weasley's cottage," he told her.

"I thought that was a dream, for sure. I recalled that I was on one side and you on the other, you trapped me between the gate and the fence, and we had a nice little kiss. I actually remember that," she said, smiling widely. She was pleased that she actually remembered something. She picked up her plate and continued to eat.

He also felt a ray of hope. "I'm glad you remember," he said.

"Well, I just really felt that one clearly, and I thought that was our first kiss, so when you said it was here, at my flat, I thought it was just a dream, not a memory. I'm glad it was a memory," she explained.

"Anything else?" he asked, also eating.

"Harry said when the building collapsed, I was stuck inside. I remember that slightly, but I remember something about a cat, and when you said the other day that you had a cat, I wondered if that was the cat I remember," she said hurried.

"It's not my cat, it's really yours, and yes, I was buying the collar for that cat. You named it, but I have to say, I like the little chap, so I'm claiming ownership," he said.

She said, "I wondered why I had cat food in my cupboard, and a litter box in my bathroom."

"Did you think they were for Weasel?" he asked.

"Funny, Malfoy," she said. "I feel so much better suddenly."

"I'm glad," he exclaimed. He put his plate down and said, "I'm stuffed, I shall not have room for dessert if I keep eating."

She put her plate next to his and said, "Let's recap what we've learned and not learned tonight." She turned on the couch to face him. He looked amused as he faced her. "We may or may not have dated, we kissed, you stole my cat, I loved you, you may or may not have loved me, and you walked away from me. Is that about it so far?" His smile vanished. She continued, "Even if I forgot you, I can't figure out why you would walk away from me, unless you either didn't love me, or you loved me, but now regret the fact, and you don't want to go back to the way things were."

He stood up again and said, "Wow, it's nothing like that. You really do think poorly of me, don't you? You're damn right, you have forgotten me, but you say you remember loving me, but to me it seems you only remember how much you hated me."

Before he could continue, she stood up as well and said, "Show me I'm wrong in my assumptions. Contradict me. Show me we were in love, or show me that we were not; it is so simple that it is pathetic. It's one or the other."

He seemed frustrated, and he walked away from her and he started ranting, "This isn't how I wanted this to go. Listen, don't presume to known what I feel when you cannot remember what you feel. I have been waiting for you to remember me, and I want it as much as you do."

"Then help me!" she pleaded.

"I'm trying!" he shouted. "I don't know what to do. I was told if I told you everything, it would be too much for you. You need to remember on your own. I did what I thought was right, but now I see, once again, I was terribly wrong! I should have given you back your magic sooner, and just stayed here and waited for you to wake up, and suffered the consequences! It couldn't have hurt any worse than this does! I'm such a fool!"

She rushed up to him and pulled on his sleeve. "I lost my magic? No one told me that! How did I lose my magic?"

"No one told you anything, and now I'm supposed to pick up all the pieces," he spat, more to himself than to her. He was so angry that he began to pace around the room. He did everything wrong, when all he wanted was to do everything right.

She said, "Draco, it's my life, tell me everything! I have a right to know."

"You came to the estate, you opened a bloody book made by the crazy professor, and you lost your magic. We fell in love, we made love, some man tried to kill you, Derek Grayson gave me a spell to restore your magic, he told me you would forget everything that happened from the time you lost your magic on, and I was so selfish that I wasn't going to use it!"

"But you were so sad and depressed without your magic, you were despondent and a pitiable shell of your former self, so for the first time in my wretched life I did the right thing, I was unselfish, and you know what, it didn't matter. If I could turn back time, I would change everything! Maybe I wouldn't have pursued you in the beginning, and save us all this grief! Maybe I would have been a bigger man, and given you back your magic, and just stayed here until you woke up, and forced you to remember me!"

"You know what? I can't change anything, and I can't force you to remember me. Everything is so wrong! I love you. There's your answer. I love you, but you're right, I left you, and it was wrong! I want you to love me like you used to, and I want to love you like I used to."

Hermione said, "May I get a word in edgewise?"

"Fine, what?" he asked, perturbed.

"You love me?"

"Well, you are a smart one, aren't you?" he asked with sarcasm.

"And I love you." That one was not a question.

"Your powers of deduction truly amaze, Granger," he said.

"Shut up, Malfoy, I think I'm on to something," she said, walking around him. "I may not remember everything, and I might **never** remember everything, but I understand why you did what you did, and you thought leaving me, when I wouldn't remember you, was the best thing to do, but you really shouldn't have left me. You should have stayed here and forced me to remember."

He felt a heavy weight leave his chest. "You want me to help you remember?" he asked.

"Yes, that's all I've wanted from the beginning," she said, throwing her arms up in the air.

Fine, he thought. He rushed up to her and picked her up. He took her to the kitchen counter and sat her down right on the banana crème pie. He kept his hands around her waist, as her eyes opened wide.

"Why the hell did you do that?" she screamed. She tried to lift her hip, to look at the squashed pie, but he kept her firmly in place. "DRACO!"

"Just sit here a minute and try to remember," he said.

"Remember what? That you're daft? How is this going to help me? I have pie on my bum!"

"Try to remember," he pleaded, his hands moving from her waist to her outer thighs.

She frowned slightly and said, "I'm sorry, but I don't see how me sitting in pie is going to help me remember anything."

He removed his hands from her thighs and said, "Maybe this will help." He placed one hand on the back of her neck, and he placed his body between her legs, forcing them open. His other hand went to her face, and he leaned in to kiss her slowly and surely. He wanted her to remember. His lips played with hers, moving them, parting them. He let go for the briefest moments, to pull back and looked at her face. He wanted to see if there was even the slightest flicker of remembrance. He saw nothing, so he went back to her lips. He sucked on the top lip, and rounded her lips with his tongue. Her hands, which had previously rested on his shoulders, moved to his back, and pressed him closer. He felt alive and whole for the first time in months. Even if she never remembered what they had, maybe they could go on from this point, pick up the pieces, and find a new life together.

He finally parted from her, this time for more than a moment. She opened her eyes, as his fingertips feathered down her cheek.

"Oh, Draco, where have you been?" she said.

"I've been here, you've been away, though," he answered.

She jumped off the counter and looked at her backside. She said, "I still don't remember everything, but it might be fun to fall in love all over again, don't you think?"

"Considering that I never stopped loving you, I can't fall in love again, but I am more than happy to help you discover your love for me again. Say, Granger, do you want me to help you with that dress?"

"Well apparently, I can do magic now, so I can remove the pie," she said.

"I thought it would be easier to just remove the dress," he snickered.

"I will concede to you on this Malfoy. You probably know best," she said.

"Now I know you don't remember anything, because you would never have said that before," he said. He wrapped his arms around her and added, "I was stupid. I shouldn't have left you. Forgive me."

"I do, if you forgive me," she said.

"What have you done that needs forgiving?" he asked. He stroked her cheek, and then kissed it lightly.

"I forgot you, and that's unforgivable, but perhaps you will forgive me anyway," she said. She reached up and kissed his lips.

"I forgive you." He meant it. He suddenly swung her around and said, "Now, let's get you out of that dress."

- The End -


End file.
